







































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Class_ 

Bonk 

Copyright ^ 0 



\i 

A 


v 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




GPO 





















“DEE DEE” 



/ 


“DEE DEE” 


BY 

Eliot H. Robinson 

AUTHOR OF “SMILES,” “SMILING PASS,” 

“the man from smiling pass,” 

ETC. 


/ 

BEING THE UNCOMMON ACCOUNT OF A 
COMMONPLACE CRIME 

Wherein the Author has 'presented , in a simple , convincing manner , a 
story of romance and mystery , with a detective of a different sort. 
The characters are natural , the action realistic , as well as 
gripping , and the denouement brings a real surprise 



» ■> ) 
5 "> 

> 1 » 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





PZ-5 



Copyright, 1925 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

(Incorporated)» 


Printed in the United States of America 


THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 


/ 


QCT 21 i925 ^ 





CONTENTS 


PART I 
The First Day 


PAGE 


I. 

The Anonymous Letter 

. . 3 

II. 

The Sommes’ Case 

16 

III. 

The Rev. David Deane, D.D. . 

. . 29 

IV. 

Surprising Disclosures 

44 

V. 

The Sixth Sense 

. . 55 

VI. 

Ramifications .... 

. . 68 

VII. 

Dee Dee and Anne . 

83 

VIII. 

Deedon. 

96 

IX. 

Anne’s “ Confidence ” 

109 

X. 

Dee Dee Takes a Hand . 

122 

XI. 

The Narrowing Circle 

. 133 

XII. 

The New Trail .... 

150 

XIII. 

The End of the Day 

. 158 


PART II 

The Following Days 


I. 

A Spark to Tinder 

. 177 

II. 

The Current Strengthens . 

194 

III. 

Multum in Parvo 

. 210 

IV. 

Silver Lakewards 

. 227 

V. 

The Streams Converge 

. 237 

VI. 

Rapids. 

. 251 

VII. 

The Whirlpool 

. 266 

VIII. 

From the Depths 

. 283 

IX. 

Clearing .... 

. 295 

X. 

Still Waters 

. . 308 










f 


% 


PART I 


The First Day 



“DEE DEE” 


CHAPTER I 

THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 

“Well, I’ll bed-d!” 

Having thus audibly condemned himself to perdition, 
Morrissy proceeded to re-read, with greater care, the 
letter which had drawn the aforesaid ejaculation from 
him. After doing which he gave expression to his aston¬ 
ishment by the further remark, “That does beat the 
devil.” 

His heavy hand, to which swinging a night stick “ on 
the beat” in years gone by had imparted unusual strength, 
shot out. A spatulate forefinger descended with force 
and precision upon an electric button attached to his 
desk. A door opened in answer to the mechanical sum¬ 
mons, but before the officer who appeared in the opening 
could cross the threshold Morrissy snapped out, “ Send 
Daley in here.” The door closed on a half-completed 
salute. System and speed were two of the things upon 
which he laid particular stress in the department. Yet 
neither was in particular evidence during the next few 
moments as Police Inspector James Morrissy leaned back 
in his chair and drummed an irritated tattoo on the desk 
with his fingertips, meanwhile regarding the recently 
3 



4 


DEE DEE ” 


opened letter with a puzzled, almost hostile, expression 
on his matter-of-fact face. 

“ Sherlock Holmes’ stuff,” he muttered, half aloud, in 
a scoffing tone. “I’ve got enough everyday sort of prob¬ 
lems to puzzle over, without bothering my brain over 

this. And yet-” He always referred to the popular 

hero of detective romance sarcastically, not that he 
lacked imagination of a kind, but because he felt—per¬ 
haps with justification—that in dealing with modern 
criminology a businesslike system was of far greater 
importance than individual genius. 

Yet when his assistant appeared, a few moments later, 
he tossed him the offending letter and, in mock Sher- 
lockian manner, inquired, “ ‘What d’you make of that, 
Watson?’ ” 

Daley’s Irish-blue eyes scanned the typewritten lines 
casually. Then he whistled softly through his front 
teeth, one of which had been broken half off in some 
melee, and remarked, “Well, I’ll be d-dl” 

“Be something original, can’t you? I said that. Yes, 
and did that, too.” The newcomer was holding the single 
sheet of paper up to the light, inquisitively. “It’s the 
same—same watermark and other earmarks. Only this 
time our mysterious friend goes a step farther than in the 
past—or contrariwise. He doesn’t give us any hint as to 
why we should do it; just politely requests. This is 
highly intriguing, as the society dames would say. Read 
it aloud, Dan. There may be something I missed the 
first two times.” 

Daley cleared his throat and obeyed in an embarrassed 
voice with more than a bit of a brogue. 



THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


5 


“ ‘Inspector James Morrissy, 

Police Headquarters, City. 

My dear Sir: 

I feel that I may have been of some slight assistance 
to your department in its investigation of certain crimi¬ 
nal cases, during recent years—at least I flatter myself 
that some of the suggestions which I have taken the lib¬ 
erty of making, in writing, have been followed out with 
favorable results. 

If I am correct in my assumption that I may have been 
instrumental in aiding you in the solution of some of the 
so-called “mysteries” to which I refer, I trust that you 
may be inclined to accept a suggestion from me relative 
to a case which is now engaging your attention—that of 
the murder, last night, of Mr. Sewell Sommes. At the 
moment it may seem to be rather a destructive than a 
constructive suggestion, but I am convinced that it is 
really the latter. 

Your men found it necessary to arrest Miss Wil¬ 
loughby. That was natural, and possibly inevitable, 
but it was an error. I can give you most positive assur¬ 
ance that her story was in every respect true; that she 
knows nothing about the killing of her guardian, and was 
in no respect a party to it.’ ” 

Daley interrupted his reading to examine the paper 
closely and from various angles, interpolating the re¬ 
mark, “Looks like he first wrote ‘Connected wid,’ there; 
erased it afterwards and changed the worrds to ‘a party 
to.’ He was in a hurry, and didn’t use the care thot the 
rist of the letter shows.” 


6 


“DEE DEE ” 


“And which might be called meticulous,” agreed the 
Inspector, nodding with a smile of appreciation in his 
steely gray eyes. 

“Maybe so. I ain’t much on them two-dollar worrds.” 
He continued, 

“ 7 / I can assume that you favorably remember my 
anonymous connection with previous cases , it is my sin¬ 
cere hope that you will follow, in this instance, my sug¬ 
gestion that Miss Willoughby be released immediately, 
and that you commence a search for the real murderer, 
elsewhere, since every moment lost may make the hunt 
more difficult . 

For my own part I cheerfully promise to do every¬ 
thing in my power to assist you in arriving at the true 
solution of this shocking crime, if my advice is followed 

And he signs it, as per usual, wid the letter ‘X’,” Daley 
concluded. 

“Yes. ‘X,’ the unknown quantity. Well, there you 
are—can you beat that?” 

“Not wid the hand I hold, on the deal. Are you goin’ 
to do it, Chief? Set the gurrl free, I mane?” the other 
countered. 

“What would you suggest?” 

“D-d ’f I know.” Daley meditatively scratched 

his head, which was thatched with a thick and curly mop 
of carrot-colored hair. “How can we—bearin’ in mind 
all the ividence, I’m askin’ you? Of course it’s all cir¬ 
cumstantial, I grant you thot, but if ’twas a man instead 
of a pritty gurrl ’twould be a plinty to sind him up for 
life, I’m thinkin’. And would the District Attorney 



THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


7 


agree to doin’ it—I dunno. On the ither hand-” 

He stopped and shook his head with the same puzzled 
expression on his countenance which Morrissy had worn 
a few moments earlier. “There’s this to be said. The 
mysterious ‘X’ ain’t been wrong on a single wan of his 
tips, yet —and us Irish are kind of superstitious by 
nature.” 

“I know. If it weren’t for that fact I’d toss the letter 
into the waste basket and call him another nut—one of 
the kind that makes fools of themselves over society 
murderers.” 

“Oh, sure.” 

The Inspector resumed drumming with his heavy 
fingertips. Finally he said, half apologetically, “I’ve 
almost a mind to take a chance, as a token of our faith 
in our mysterious friend, Danny, my boy. A hint to the 
D. A. that we aren’t as confident as we thought we were 
and were working on a new line, would do the trick. If 
the Coroner’s jury get a fair look at Miss Willoughby 
they’re more than likely to bring in a verdict of death 
‘by the hand of person or persons unknown,’ anyway. Of 
course we could continue to keep her under strict surveil¬ 
lance, and re-arrest her if any more direct evidence is 
uncovered—we haven’t any definite motive to show, 
yet.” 

“Maybe not. But are you forgettin’ where she was 
found and how she was dressed?” 

“Certainly not. She gives a reasonable explanation 
of that, though. And he writes that he can vouch for the 
fact that she told us the truth. Which brings us back to 
this letter. Ordinarily I’d let the case take its usual 



8 


“ DEE DEE ” 


course, but this gives it a new aspect. I’m not naturally 
superstitious, like you, but hanged if I haven’t a feeling 
that he’s right, again, and that she’s innocent. Call it a 
hunch if you like.” 

“More likely I’d call it bein’ the soft-hearted auld 
gintleman thot you are,” answered his subordinate with 
a frank grin. They were close friends. “She’s a blamed 
pretty kid in a peck of trouble.” 

“Thanks for the compliment. That’s the first time 
I’ve ever been called soft-hearted. I guess that twenty 
years in the Police Department have taught me, right 
enough, that neither sex, looks, age, nor social position 
has any bearing on innocence or guilt—although it’s 
darned hard to convince a jury of twelve good men and 
true that that’s so. And I don’t think that I’m getting 
soft-headed, either, even if I do decide to play a hunch. 
The case against the Willoughby girl looks strong, but 
the evidence is circumstantial, and I’ve seen cases like 
this go up—puff—in smoke too many times before now 
to feel sure that we’ve got the right pig by the ear-” 

“Sow,” Daley corrected, but the other continued with¬ 
out deigning to notice the flippant interruption, “—and 
now along comes ‘X’ and tells us flatly that we’re barking 
up the wrong tree, and wasting valuable time, doing it. 
He-” 

“Maybe so,” broke in the other, and continued in an 
aggrieved tone, “but, good Lord, Chief, I had to arrist 
her, didn’t I? Look at the circumstances.” 

“I know. I’m not blaming you—would have fired you 
from the force if you hadn’t brought her in last night. 
Just the same her story-” 



THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


9 


“Is O. K. as far as it goes, but she’s holdin’ somethin’ 
back on us. You know that. And there’s this to be said, 
Chief. In addition to the ividence, which all points wan 
way—towards her—and her refusal to tell us more, by 
doin’ which she might disclose a motive, the Depart¬ 
ment’s sittin’ pretty wid the public, now, but where 
would we be if we turn the only suspect loose? Straight¬ 
way we’d have anither murder mystery on our hands, 
and the Press’d be about us like a pack o’ blood-thirsty 
wolves agin. They’re howlin’ for a victim, already. 
Why give up wan until we have found a substitute? 
Times a-plinty they’ve had us on the grill for a bunch of 
boneheads, as it is.” 

“The Press be d-d!” exploded the Inspector, flush¬ 

ing angrily. 

“ ’Twas always a red rag to wan bull I know of,” mur¬ 
mured Daley with his blue eyes twinkling. 

Morrissy laughed shortly. “I might have known that 
you were talking to hear yourself talk. You’re the soft¬ 
hearted one, Dan—incorrigibly so. Of course we’re not 
after a victim, but the real murderer, yet there’s a good 
deal of truth in what you just said, to get my goat, and 
I’d be strongly inclined to let matters rest as they are, 
except for one thing.” 

“Manin’ this here letter, is it?” 

“Exactly. If we see to it that she’s released no par¬ 
ticular harm can come of it, but if we ignore this hint we 
may kill the goose that has been laying golden eggs for 
us, and asking no pay for them. To tell the truth, Dan, 
I’d be pretty nearly willing to set this Willoughby girl 
free without any strings on her—yes, even if I thought 



10 


“DEE DEE ” 


that she was guilty, if by doing that I could discover the 
identity of this ‘X’ and tie him up to us. What would 
one more black mark against the Department count, if 
we could secure the services of such a detective as he 
must be, whether he’s an amateur or pro; crazy or 
canny! He’s scored a bull’s-eye every time, so far, and 
it’s got my goat for fair. I lay awake nights trying to 
puzzle him out, but there’s nothing doing.” 

“You’ve said it—and I’m thinkin’ thot you’ve said the 
likes of it before,” replied Daley, grinning through the 
blue-gray haze, for both men had lighted pipes and were 
smoking furiously. “We’ve tried to guess the answer to 
him, times enough, but ’tis no go. Wan thing’s certain 
sure, though. If he’s ‘on the inside’ wid an assorted 
bunch of criminals, he’s the quarest stool-pigeon thot 
ever I heard tell of—handin’ out the dope on his pals, 
free gratis for nothin’.” 

“Oh, you can dismiss that idea from your head— 
there’s nothing in it.” • 

“Manin’ the idea, or the head?” laughed the other, but 
Morrissy remained serious. “His communications read, 
as though they might have been written by an old college 

professor- I wonder if there could be a ‘master 

mind’ in deduction, outside of romantic novels; an actual 
Sherlock Holmes and one who plays the game for the 
fun of the thing. No, I don’t believe it. Then there’s 

clairvoyancy- Only I don’t believe in that, either,” 

he continued, musingly. 

“Well, I dunno, but at least there’s this to be said agin 
thot, in the prisint case. Who iver heard of a clairvoyant 
takin’ particular pains not to advertise him- or herself?” 



THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


11 


scoffed Daley. “No. More like it’s a nut or a genius— 
they’re a good deal alike—but I’d give a guess that he 
ain’t old.” 

Daley was studying the letter again. 

“Going in for scientific deduction yourself, eh? Well, 
let’s hear the results of your deep study. If science can 
reconstruct a prehistoric monster from one fossil tooth, 
as I’ve read, a bright young detective like you should be 
able to do as much for a living man from the half-a- 
dozen letters that he has written us. Your Sherlock 
Holmes would be able to give his exact age and the color 
of his eyes from that evidence.” 

Daley grinned, but accepted the challenge, half in jest, 
half in earnest, for he had a boyish pride in his powers 
of observation and deduction. “Well, thin, I say ’tis a 
man and a youngish wan—you’ll mark thot the impres¬ 
sion of the type is heavy and a bit irregular as well. He’s 
a ‘two-finger’ operator who uses the Hunt & Find system, 
although a fairly speedy wan, for at least three times 
he’s piled his keys. I’d set him down for a professional 
man of some sort, who writes a good bit pro se. As I 
recall the other letters they were similar to this wan—all 
written by wan hand, so to spake, although the ‘hand’ 
is a portable typewriter of a popular make and wan 
that’s been used considerable, too. Some of the type is 
chipped a bit, you’ll notice.” 

Although Morrissy scoffed he was listening with a good 
deal more interest than he allowed himself to show, for 
he had picked Daley himself and was justly proud of the 
ability which the youngest member of the Bureau of 
Criminal Investigation had already displayed. 


12 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Well, thin,” continued the speaker, his brow slightly 
puckered up—a physical sign of his mental concentra¬ 
tion which made him unconscious of the other’s smiling 
regard. “The paper’s a plain bond, business letter size, 
and of fairly expensive quality—I found, once, that it 
costs two bucks and a half a ream, and the likes of it can 
be bought at almost anny stationery store. He always 
uses plain stamped envelopes, and mails the letters in 
wan of the downtown drop boxes. This time he was 
particularly anxious for us to get it in a hurry, and put 
on a special delivery stamp. Not much nourishment for 
a would-be Sherlock Holmes in thot , maybe, but I’d 
make wan deduction—thot wan of his eyelids has a slight 
droop.’’ 

Morrissy did not get it immediately and raised his eye¬ 
brows in interrogation. 

“That ginerally happens whin a guy is winkin’ at 
you,” the other supplemented, with a chuckle. 

“Only this is obviously no joke. Besides, he handed 
us the straight goods in all the other cases, setting us 
right when we were on the wrong trail—or lost entirely. 
Let’s see how many times-?” 

“Six or siven, annyhow. By the way, how did you 
come to fall for his suggestion, the first time, Chief? We 
git anonymous communications a-plinty, but-” 

“And don’t we always try to investigate them all, even 
though they’re generally written by cranks, or sent in as 
blinds—attempts to drag a red herring across the trail? 
Sure we do. Of course when I had gone at the case 
from the angle he suggested the first time, and found that 
he was right, I naturally paid more attention to the next, 




THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


13 


and the next. Now I’d give a month’s salary to lay my 
hands on that bird, Dan.” 

“Me, too. And—by St. Patrick, here’s our chance / 
I’ve got a hunch, and I belave in playin’ wan for all it’s 
worth. We’ve got the bait to land that fish right in the 
auld tin can, or I’m a sheeny. Whativer else he is, wan 
thing’s sure—he’s more than common interested in this 
Sommes case, or the Willoughby gurrl herself, more like. 
And we don’t have to cherchez the femme —we’ve got 
her, safe and sound. All thot we need to do, now, is 
inform that ‘X’ guy that if he’ll come out of his hole 
and personally make known to the Department the ray- 
son for his peculiar request it’ll probably be granted. 
Otherwise, nothin’ doin’! Thot’ll fetch him, or you can 
call me the short and ugly name.” 

“I had about come to the same conclusion, Danny. 
Great minds, et cetera . But how would you go about 
it?” The Inspector’s active brain had already formed a 
plan, but he wanted to try out his protege a little further. 

“Sure thot’s aisy. Use our auld inimy, The Press.” 

“And have the reporters jump on our necks, and charge 
us with conniving to defeat justice? They’ve got the 
girl as good as hanged, already.” 

“I know. Confound Clancy for spillin’ the whole story 
to the newspaper b’ys last night. But you just lave ’em 
to me, Chief—I’ll kid ’em to a fare-ye-well, look wise and 
hint at a more mysterious mystery for thim to spill ink 
over, hereafter. Like enough ’twill be the truth, too, 
which always makes a lie worth double. All I’ll have to 
say is thot we’ve got hold of some new information, the 
exact nature of which can’t be divulged quite yit, but 


14 


“DEE DEE ” 


thot we promise to let thim in on it at the first possible 
moment. That’ll be the cat’s meow for thim.” 

“All right. But how will you get it across?” 

“Well, there’s the Agony Column, of course. I thought 
of thot, first, but the likes of him wouldn’t see a notice 
there, probably, and annyway I’ve got an idea thot beats 
thot a mile. We won’t even make an ad of it—’twill 
be News, spelled wid a capital N. I’ll git the b’ys to 
box the item at the head of their stories for the after¬ 
noon edition, so big thot a blind man couldn’t help seein’ 
it. Lave me have a sheet o’ paper and a bit of a pencil, 
Chief.” 

The Inspector passed them to him, and he set to work, 
his burly form hunched over the desk and tongue appar¬ 
ently playing an important part in the formation of the 
words, for, although Daley was keenly intelligent, he had 
small book-learning, since his education had been chiefly 
acquired in the School of the Streets, with a finishing 
course in the well-known College of Hard Knocks. 

“There!” he exclaimed, triumphantly, as he concluded 
his labors, and shoved the paper back across to his 
superior. “How’s thot for lit’rachoor? If we do release 
the Willoughby gurrl, immediate, this gives us a loop¬ 
hole to crawl out of—we acted as the result of secret 
information given us by the ‘X’ of this ad. See?” 

“The idea’s good enough to try out, anyway, Dan. 
Well, hop to it. We want it in type and on the street 
without any delay.” 

******** 

Thus it came about that the noon edition of every city 
paper carried, at the head of its front page story retelling 


THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 


15 


—with embellishments—the story of the murder of 
Sewell Sommes, millionaire, a curiosity-inciting item, 
heavily leaded and prominently boxed, which read thus: 


“X” 

IF “x” WILL CALL AT POLICE HEADQUAR¬ 
TERS AND MAKE KNOWN TO THE INSPECTOR 
HIS REASONS FOR THE REQUEST CONTAINED 
IN LETTER RECEIVED FROM HIM TODAY IT 
WILL PROBABLY BE COMPLIED WITH AT ONCE. 
OTHERWISE IT WILL NOT! 



CHAPTER II 


THE SOMMES’ CASE 

“But she didn’t do it! I know she didn’t.” 

The speaker wrung her thin, gloved hands together 
and her lips quivered pitiably as she tried to control her 
anguish. Tears trembled on her eyelids and there were 
traces of previous weeping on her cheeks, now pale and 
a little lined and sunken, but still bearing the marks of 
exceptional prettiness, fifteen or twenty years previous. 

“There, there, ma’am, I ain’t sayin’ thot she did—only 
thot she was still under arrest for havin’ done it, which 
ain’t necessarily the same thing at all, at all,” answered 
Daley, who retained in full his Irish capacity for sym¬ 
pathy, despite his calling. “Come now, don’t take on 
so. You don’t look well, yoursilf, and there’s no sort o’ 
sinse in workin’ yourself all up over this, as like enough 
’twill all come out in the wash, so to spake. I had to 
arrist her, but—to tell the truth—I’ve a hunch that we 
won’t be kapin’ her long, if that’ll make you feel anny 
better. There’s somethin’ new turned up—but niver 
mind about thot, now.” 

“And you’ll let me see her? Oh, I must see her.” 

“Sure, there’ll be no objection to thot,” Daley an¬ 
swered, heartily. “But first you won’t mind if I ask 
you a few questions? Thot’s right. Housekaper for 
Mr. Sommes you was, thin?” 

“Yes. I’ve been—I was in the household, first as 
16 


THE SOMMES’ CASE 


17 


nurse for the children, and later as housekeeper, for 
nearly twenty years. I’m practically the only ‘mother’ 
that Miss Anne has ever known, you see, and-” 

“Of course. Under them circumstances ’tis natural 

thot you’d feel terribul about it, Mrs.-! Miss Nancy 

Newell, is it, thin?” 

“Yes. Oh, please can’t I see my baby?” 

“In jest a minute,” answered Daley, soothingly. “You 
weren’t wid the other servants at the Sommes’ risidence 
last night, were you, now?” 

“No, sir. I’ve not been really well for some years— 
it’s my heart. I usually take a little vacation in the 
spring, and for the past fortnight I have been staying 
with my sister’s family in Jersey. I read in the morning 
paper of the—the murder, and my little Anne’s arrest, 
and came here as fast as I could, to comfort and help 
free her, only-” 

“I see. Well, maybe you can help, at thot. There’s a 
number of things that need clearin’ up and you may 
know the answers. What paper have you there—the 
Star f is it? D’ye moind if I glance over the story in it 
and see how much thot darned Johnson got and how 
much he guessed? I’ve got to hand it to him. Day and 
night he’s everlastin’ly on the job waitin’ for a news 
story to break, and by hook or crook on the spot whin 
it does—which makes him a good reporter, I suppose. 
But he’s a trrouble maker for us, all the same. He got 
into the Sommes’ place at the same toime the police did, 
somehow, and I didn’t spot him—among the servants— 
until he’d seen and heard most of what wint on.” 

Daley took the sensational journal from Miss Newell, 


18 


“DEE DEE ” 


who had been twisting and crumpling it, nervously, for 
many minutes, and hastily ran through the featured 
story, beside which appeared the pictures of the two prin¬ 
cipals. It ran as follows: 

MILLIONAIRE MURDERED! 

Sewell Sommes, Noted Financier, Shot Dead 
His Beautiful Ward, Anne Willoughby, Jailed 

“Grim tragedy paid a call at the home of one of the 
city’s social leaders last night. Today Sewell Sommes, 
millionaire broker and popular clubman, lies dead in the 
library of his palatial residence on Bellevue Avenue and 
his beautiful ward, Anne Willoughby, whom he had 
reared from infancy, is in jail, suspected of the murder 
of her benefactor. Sommes was shot to death at exactly 
twenty-seven minutes past one, this morning—the time 
being established by the victim’s own costly chronometer, 
which was smashed and stopped as he fell forward across 
his table desk when struck by the fatal shot, fired from 
Anne Willoughby’s pearl-handled target pistol.” 

At this point Daley interrupted his reading to grunt, 
“Huh. So the fox learned thot, too, in spite of me 
havin’ kicked him out of the house. Bet he wormed it 
out of wan of the maids. Where there’s a lady there’s a 
leak.” He continued his perusal: 

“Since her formal ‘coming out,’ three years ago, Anne 
Willoughby has been one of the most popular members 
of the social set. She graduated from Smith College 
only a week ago and returned home to take her acknowl¬ 
edged place as a leader in the younger society of the city, 
the envied of many, for not only is she an extremely 


THE SOMMES’ CASE 


19 


beautiful brunette, a notable athlete, a delightful singer, 
a leader in religious activities, but the possessor of 
marked grace and personal charm. Yet this morning 
society shuddered at the knowledge that the shadowy 
finger of suspicion pointed to her as a criminal, through 
the prison bars.” 

“Rot!” muttered Daley. “And they get paid extra for 
drivvel like thot!” 

“The first news of the tragedy was telephoned to Po¬ 
lice Headquarters only a few moments after it occurred, 
by the Sommes’ butler, John Williams, who had faith¬ 
fully served his dead master for nearly a quarter of a 
century and who had then no suspicion that his beloved 
young mistress would be implicated therein. She denies 
her guilt, but the evidence is black against her, at 
present. 

“Officer Clancy was immediately dispatched to the 
scene of the crime, and Assistant Inspector Daley—who 
has recently achieved marked success as a member of the 
Criminal Investigation Bureau—was notified at his 
home, the two reaching the Sommes’ residence almost 
simultaneously together with the representative of this 
paper.” 

“Yes, but Clancy got there a minute ahead, worse 
luck. If he hadn’t, Johnson wouldn’t have been ‘among 
those prisint’,” interpolated the reader. 

“A frightened group of servants stood, huddled to¬ 
gether, in the upper hallway, just outside the door of 
Mr. Sommes’ luxurious study-library, which connects 
with his bedroom, and where many a masterpiece of 
finance has been planned in the silent hours of the night, 
for he was ever a notably late retirer. Within the room, 
now softly illuminated by a system of indirect lighting, 


20 


“DEE DEE ” 


but in the brighter glare from a green-shaded desk lamp 
which beat full upon him, lay the millionaire, face down¬ 
ward across the desk—dead. He was fully clad in eve¬ 
ning clothes except for substitution of a rich, maroon- 
colored dressing gown of velvet for his coat. His right arm 
was flung out as if in a futile attempt to ward off Death. 
Almost beneath his clutching hand lay an open check¬ 
book, and the ink from a gold-mounted pen had mingled 
with the blood which, flowing from the bullet wound in 
his left breast, stained his immaculate shirt front and 
the no less white blotter.” 

“Sure, but he’s a divil for detail, and I’ve got to hand 
it to him there,” announced Daley, half aloud. 

“It seemed as though his last mortal thought had been 
that which had engaged his attention so completely and 
effectively during his life—money. 

“The butler’s story was to the effect that a little after 
one-thirty he had been awakened by a woman’s piercing 
screams, coming from the front part of the house, his own 
room being on the second floor in an ell at the rear. The 
other servants sleep on the floor above, two in a room, 
and were not aroused until later. He recognized the 
voice as that of his mistress, Miss Willoughby, and 
hastened to find out what was wrong. 

“As he ran down the hall he observed that the door 
to her bedroom was open, as was that to Mr. Sommes’ 
study, in which the electric lights were burning. On 
entering this apartment the first object upon which his 
eyes fell was Anne Willoughby, cowering against the 
wall near the entrance. She was clad only in her night¬ 
gown-” 

“Which probably makes a better story, but ain’t the 
whole truth,” thought the detective. “Williams stated 



THE SOMMES’ CASE 


21 


that she had on a kimono thing, wid her bare feet slipped 
into hood war slippers.” 

“—with her wonderful dark hair in two long, thick 
braids down her back. Her pallid face was covered by 
her hands and her slender form was shaken with choking 
sobs.” 

“Sure, he’d ought to be writing dime novels—the kind 
that nowadays sell for two bucks,” said Daley, not with¬ 
out admiration. 

“ ‘What is the matter, Miss Anne? What are you 
doing here at this time of night and dressed like that?’ 
Williams demanded, but before she could answer he 
caught sight of his master, lying as has been described. 
He hastened to him, but, realizing that he was past 
human aid, had the presence of mind to refrain from 
even touching the body. In another moment Miss Wil¬ 
loughby regained sufficient control of herself to answer 
his questions, and said at first, in a dazed sort of way, 
that she did not know how she came to be there. 

“Shortly, however, she accounted for her presence in 
the room by saying that she had not been sleeping well, 
being mentally disturbed, and that she had been awak¬ 
ened from a half-slumber by hearing what sounded like 
a revolver shot. She had not been sure whether it was 
real or something heard in a dream, so she arose, looked 
out of the window first, and then went and opened her 
bedroom door. 

“According to her story there was no light in the hall, 
but she thought that she heard the sound of groans com¬ 
ing from her guardian’s study and she ran thither. The 
door was open and the room in darkness, she declared, 
but sufficient moonlight shone in through the window, 
beside which the desk stood, so that she was able to dimly 
make out Mr. Sommes’ prostrate form as she crossed the 


22 


DEE DEE ” 


threshold. At first she thought that perhaps he was ill, 
and she hastened to his side, speaking his name, but 
when she laid her hand upon his shoulder she had a 
premonition that something worse had happened, and 
paused to turn on the desk lamp. 

“At the same instant, she said, he gasped out her 
name,—‘Anne’—his body gave a convulsive twitch and 
lay still in death.” 

Daley had unconsciously read the last two or three 
paragraphs aloud, and at this point he was interrupted 
by a faint cry from Miss Newell, who could no longer 
suppress her agony. “Oh, my baby! My baby!” she 
sobbed. “The horror of it!” 

“Sure and it was no very pleasant experience for her, 
the poor young lady—assumin’, of course, thot she was 
tellin’ the truth,” remarked the detective. 

“But she was! I know she was. Why-” 

“Well, agin I ain’t sayin’ the contrary, but there’s a 
good bit, yet, to be told and what’s to come makes her 
explanation sound less raysonable. Hold on a minute 
while I jest skim through the rist of this and see how 
much Johnson missed of what followed—if anny.” 

“At that point,” the article went on, “she uttered a 
cry of terror, stumbled blindly back to the door and man¬ 
aged to switch on the electric lights, having done which, 
she lost consciousness. When she came to and remem¬ 
bered what had happened she became hysterical and her 
screams finally awakened the butler, who accepted her 
story without question. 

“The police were inclined to the same belief until 
Daley, undertaking a more thorough examination of the 
room than had been made at the outset, started to close 
the door which led into the hall, and behind it discovered 



THE SOMMES’ CASE 


23 


the weapon with which the murder had, almost certainly, 
been committed. 

“It was a pearl-handled .22 caliber target revolver— 
obviously a woman’s toy, yet of sufficient power to take 
a human life. Inspector Daley held it up and inquired 
whether or not any one recognized it. Instantly a 
woman’s voice, sweet but agonized, cried, ‘Oh, it’s mine!’ 
The speaker was Miss Anne Willoughby herself, for she 
had dressed and joined the group in the study, unnoticed. 
The stunned silence which followed this surprising ad¬ 
mission was broken by the girl, whose eyes had fallen on 
the body of her late guardian, and who wailed out the 
words, ‘Oh, he’s dead—he’s killed. Now I can never tell 
him that I’m sorry—that I wanted to forgive him.’ 

“Miss Willoughby was pressed to make some further 
explanation which might throw a more favorable light 
on her incriminating confession, but she utterly refused 
to do so. The revolver was one which she always left on 
the shelf in one of her bedroom closets where she kept 
her varied sporting paraphernalia.” 

Daley very briefly scanned the rest of the sensational 
story, for it held no particular interest for him, being 
devoted to generalizations about the Sommes’ household 
and journalistic romancing as to the hinted quarrel be¬ 
tween the accused girl and her murdered guardian, since 
he remembered that it was at that point that he had dis¬ 
covered Johnson in the group of frightened servants and 
ordered him from the room, together with every one else 
except Clancy, Miss Willoughby and the butler. 

Returning the newspaper to Miss Newell, he remarked, 
“Well, thot’s all right, as far as it goes—and it goes too 
domned far, in some respects. Now I’m thinkin’ thot 
I’ll tell you exactly what did happen after Miss Wil¬ 
loughby admitted the ownership of the revolver from 


24 


“DEE DEE 


which the shot was fired, for perhaps you can explain 
what she failed to. First, though, let me say that there’s 
no doubt about its bein’ the weapon wid which the killin’ 
was done. All of the chambers was loaded, wid only wan 
cartridge impty, there was the smell of burnt powder in 
the barrel, and the physician who made an autopsy, 
this mornin’, extracted the bullet. A .22 it is; the same 
as those in the revolver. So thot’s thot.” 

“But—but couldn’t it have been—suicide?” whispered 
Miss Newell, haltingly. 

“Not a chance. Look, now. There was no powder 
marks on his clothin’ and the bullet intered his body 
here, just benathe the arrm-pit on the left side. From 
its course ’tis practically certain thot it was fired from 
pretty well across the room whilst he was sittin’ at the 
desk, turned half away and wid his arrm raised. A con¬ 
tortionist couldn’t have done it, himself. The slug nicked 
his heart, but didn’t kill him instantly—at least it didn’t 
if we can belave the young woman’s story of his callin’ 
out her name. But to git on, for I want to see if you 
can throw a little light on some dark places. After I’d 
dared the room of all but my assistant, the butler and 
Miss Anne, I ses to her, ses I, ‘How came this pistol here 
behind the door and just about where you said you stood 
whin you flopped in a faint?’ 

“All the toime, mind you, I was kaptn’ wan eye on 
her and the other had a sort of rovin’ commission over 
the rist of thim. Well, she answers thot she hasn’t the 
slightest idea, and I’ll give her credit for lookin’ be¬ 
wildered enough—or maybe ’twas frightened. 

“ ‘Whin did you see it last, thin?’ ses I. 


THE SOMMES’ CASE 


25 


“She kind of hesitates, like, and answers, ‘This—this 
afternoon. We was usin’ it firin’ at a target and-’ ” 

Miss Newell broke in with, “Yes, that’s undoubtedly 
true and not at all unusual, sir. You know that she is 
a wonderful athlete and takes part in almost every sport 
that her brother does. A Mr. Leighton gave her that 
revolver a year ago Christmas and she often practices 
with it—they have a target set up against the back wall 
of the stone garage.” 

“Which is jest what she said, herself, Miss. Well, the 
three of thim-” 

“What, is Mr. Tom home, too? I’d understood that 
when college closed he was going for a visit with some 
friends.” 

“I don’t know about thot. Annyway he was to home 
last night although he ain’t, today—and jest where he is 
we’re anxious to find out, for apparently he left the house 
under peculiar circumstances, late last evenin’. I’m 
cornin’ to thot, but to finish wid Miss Anne, first. Well, 
thin, whilst I was questionin’ her she caught sight of the 
corpse again, broke off in the middle of a sintence, all 
of a suddint, and wailed out, ‘Oh, Uncle Sewell is dead— 
dead I And to think thot I’d quarreled wid him so!”’ 

“She—she said that?” 

“Sure and she did—thim very worrds. I ain’t likely 
to forgit thim, under the circumstances, for there’s the 
question of motive, you see. Wid thot the butler has¬ 
tened to butt in, tellin’ her to kape her mouth shut— 
although he didn’t put it jest like thot, of course, bein’ 
as how he worships the ground she walks on, ’twould 
seem. I asked her did she want to make anny further 




26 


“DEE DEE” 

statement in explanation of what she had jest said, and 
she answers, ‘Oh, no, no. I can’t. I can’t explain. I 

was horribly angry-’ Jest like thot. Thin she hides 

her face in her hands and begins to sob, and the butler 
begs her to say no more, leastwise not until she had some 
wan to advise her, such as a lawyer. He was right to do 
it, of course—bad ’cess to him—but if she’d kept on she 
might have saved us a lot of trrouble. ‘But why should 
I be after wantin’ a lawyer?’ she asks, sort of bewildered, 
and I answers, ‘I guess thot you’ll be wantin’ wan, all 
right, Miss. For it’s my painful duty to arrest you, if 
not exactly for the killin’ of Sewell Sommes, at least as 
a material witness in the case, for by your own ividence 
you was the last person to see him alive, and ’twas wid 
your revolver he was killed.’ 

“ ‘But I didn’t kill him—I swear thot I didn’t—thot I 
don’t know a thing about it. How can you say thot I 
did?’ she sobs out. It sort of got me, she looks so swate 
and pitiful, like. Howiver, I naturally had to do my 
duty, so I gets stern again and says, ‘But come now, 
Miss, you must know somethin’ about it, I’m thinkin’, 
and by helpin’ us, now, you can help yoursilf. You’d 
had a quarrel wid Mr. Sommes, you say, but maybe you 
ain’t the only one. D’ye know somewan ilse who might 
have done this?’ ses I. 

“Wid thot she looks scareder than iwer and shuts up 
like a clam—diwel another worrd could I git out of 
her.” 

There had been a method in Daley’s manner of telling 
the story. He hoped that he could so stir up his visitor’s 
emotions—already at a high pitch—that she would be 



THE SOMMES’ CASE 


27 


induced to disclose the information which he had sought, 
in vain, from Anne Willoughby, since it seemed that she 
must be exceptionally familiar with the situation in that 
tragically involved household. And he had still more 
reason to believe that such was the case when he followed 
up his detailed recital of what had occurred in the night 
by saying, “Now maybe you can help Miss Willoughby 
by tellin’ us the answer to thot conundrum, Miss. 
Sure it’s yoursilf thot can see thot if she’s tryin’ to shield 
somewan ilse, ’tis at her own ixpinse, and maybe we’ll 

not be able to relase her, at all at all, unless-” For 

Miss Newell’s agitation visibly increased at the question. 
Her face flushed and then grew pallid; her hands re¬ 
sumed their nervous twisting and she seemed to be physi¬ 
cally and mentally keyed up to the breaking point with 
every nerve tense and vibrating. 

Twice she swallowed audibly before answering, but 
when she did speak her words were a disappointment to 
the listener. 

“No,” she said, huskily. “I—I can’t—can’t tell you 
anything, sir. If she didn’t want to—to explain, it 

wouldn’t be fair—even if- Oh, I must see her, first. 

I want to see her, now. Perhaps—perhaps then I’ll 
tell—” 

Daley was peeved at his failure. He had similarly 
tried to pump the other servants that morning, but it 
had seemed probable that the butler had talked to them, 
first, for they proved to be a close-mouthed bunch, fired 
with loyalty to their mistress. But he sensed, however, 
that although the household seemed to have been a won¬ 
derfully happy one for many years—a sort of Garden 



28 


“DEE DEE ” 


of Eden—within the few days previous a serpent of dis¬ 
cord had shown its ugly head there and altered every¬ 
thing. Every one seemed to make a mystery of it. 
Why? Of course it might be in nowise connected with 
the murder of Sewell Sommes, but he had a strong feel¬ 
ing that it was and he was bound to get to the bottom 
of it, somehow. Untie that knot, thought Daley, and 
I’ll wager that the crime will untangle itself. And obvi¬ 
ously Miss Newell knew the answer! 

For a moment Daley hesitated, scratched his close- 
cropped head. He disliked to pursue the subject and 
add to the anguish of the distracted woman, who was, 
after all, not on the witness stand. On the other hand 
he felt that she was close to the breaking point and a 
little pressure, exercised at just that moment, would 
cause her to divulge the information which he so badly 
wanted. The officer made up his mind abruptly—and 
at that instant a messenger opened the waiting room 
door, saluted, and said, “The Inspector is after wantin’ to 
see you in his office, immediate, sor.” 

With regret and relief intermingled, for the Fates had 
decided the question for him, Daley arose and departed 
to obey the summons from his superior, merely pausing 
long enough to direct that Miss Newell be allowed to see 
the prisoner for ten minutes. 

In such manner the course of human history is 
changed. 


CHAPTER III 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 

Coincident with the conversation between Daley and 
Miss Newell, certain events of interest had been occur¬ 
ring in the Inspector’s office. 

Two hours had elapsed since the interview between 
the Inspector and his assistant and the former had been 
employing them in working on criminal matters which 
were wholly foreign to the Sommes murder case—for 
all crime in a big city does not cease simply because one 
event of a particularly startling nature may have 
occurred to engage the attention of the police. Quite on 
the contrary, as any student of criminology is aware. 

It waxes and wanes in cycles; it occurs in waves, per¬ 
haps coincidentally, but not impossibly as the result of 
definite psychic influences—the term being here em¬ 
ployed to denote something not in the least occult, but 
rather scientific, although the true explanation of the 
phenomenon is little understood, as yet. Indeed, there 
are still millions who would probably be unwilling to 
admit even the possibility that telepathic suggestion 
either for good or evil could be broadcast. 

The Inspector had finally succeeded in concentrating 
his mind completely upon a new case—one of kidnapping 
—for he knew that the eternal vigilance of his depart¬ 
ment was the price of civic safety. And Morrissy, 
although rather routine-bound, was an efficient, typically 
American official, two generations removed from the 
29 


30 


“DEE DEE ” 


“auld sod”—a thickset, brawny man, with the stamp of 
the Force indelibly fixed on his heavy features, but with 
a keen and analytical brain contained within his large 
cranium. He had an active, as well as a persistent, mind. 
“Grass doesn’t grow on busy streets,” he was accustomed 
to retort, when twitted on the sparsity of his hair, which 
was now merely a gray frieze encircling a shining dome. 

In consequence he paid slight attention to the respect¬ 
ful rap on the door of his private office, which presaged 
the quiet entry of a policeman. And when the latter gave 
an annunciative cough, he merely growled, “Well, what 
is it, Duggan?” without looking up. 

“A gintleman to see you, sor—a Riverind, who ses 
his name is Doctor Deane.” 

“A ‘Reverend,’ huh? Damn! I’ve got to see him, I 
suppose, but these reverend gentlemen get my goat with 
their everlasting theoretical reform movements. It’s not 
that I’m lacking in respect for the Church—the real one, 
mind you—but I can’t help wishing that they’d stick to 
their own job of saving souls, and not be sticking their 
noses into my business. But then, everybody’s doing it, 
these days.” 

“Yis, sor. He told me to hand you this,” remarked 
the policeman, passing his chief a sealed envelope, boldly 
inscribed with the words, “Personal attention of Police 
Inspector Morrissy.” 

The recipient opened it with a gesture of annoyance, 
and drew out the single enclosure—a small newspaper 
clipping. He abruptly sat erect, for one glance had been 
enough. 

“Show him in, and make it snappy,” he barked. 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


31 


The messenger retired in haste, obviously surprised by 
this sudden volta face, and Morrissy waited with an 
eagerness which he made no attempt to conceal, beating 
his customary tattoo on the arm of his chair, the while. 
And when the visitor was admitted he got hastily to his 

feet, saying, “Eh—why—why—eh- Good morning, 

Father.” Not often was Inspector Morrissy astonished 
and less often did he permit himself to show astonish¬ 
ment, but in this instance he both was, and did. 

“Please don’t bother to rise,” responded the new¬ 
comer, with a contagious smile. “And I’m not a 
‘Father,’ in any sense—even if I do put my collar on 
hind-side-before, and wear a waistcoat which enables 
me to dispense with a necktie.” His words and general 
appearance were so frankly genial and engaging that 
Morrissy’s face also relaxed into a grin. 

“Sure, I believe I remember you now, Sir. You have 
something to do with one of the downtown Episcopal 
Missions, haven’t you? And I think that I’ve occasion¬ 
ally seen you in the Court Room, too. Doctor Deane, 
isn’t it?” 

“Right, in every particular.” The caller handed him 
a card engraved in Old English with the inscription, 
“Rev. David Deane, D.D., Assistant Rector, Church of 
the Redeemer.” 

“ ‘The Rev. David Deane, D.D.,’ ” the Inspector read 
aloud. “Hmm, that’s a bit odd, now. Aren’t you the 
fellow—‘gentleman,’ I should say—who generally went 
by the nickname ‘Dee Dee’ some few years back? I 
seem to remember a famous college athlete who-” 

“Same fellow. At least I admit the allegation with the 




32 


“DEE DEE” 


exception of the ‘famous’ part, at which my well-known 
modesty balks. However, I did go in a bit for sports, 
a dozen years ago, and my acquaintances did inflict that 
particularly childish nickname upon me—you’ve a good 
memory. Let evil doers beware! Dee Dee is a relic of 
baby days, by the way, and has nothing to do with the 
two letters which I wear after my name, now, to impress 
the impressionable—and apparently I’m never going to 
be able to live it down, no matter how dignified I may 
try to be.” 

The Inspector cordially extended his big hand and 
straightway found it clasped in a grip fully as strong as 
his own. Such handshakes breed mutual respect among 
men. “Why, sure I remember you, now, Doctor. They 
used to run plenty of pictures of you in the newspapers 
when you were a crack football player. You haven’t 
changed much since you wore a football suit or the O. D. 
—they published one of you in a captain’s uniform 
when Uncle Sam handed you the D. S. O. for exceptional 
bravery in France. Got your dossier right, ain’t I, 
Doctor?” 

“Let’s see. Yes, I believe that there was something 
to that general effect in the papers, once. But then, you 
can’t believe everything that you read in print, you 
know,” responded the other seriously, although a twinkle 
showed in his bespectacled brown eyes. 

“Well, I’m proud to meet you personally, sir. But—” 
A puzzled expression crept into the Inspector’s face as 
he glanced down at the clipping which he still held in 
his left hand. “It wasn’t you who sent this in to me, 
was it?” 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


33 


The Rector nodded. 

“That’s queer. I mean I should hardly have thought 
that you would have known anything about this mys¬ 
terious chap, ‘X,’ who wrote-” 

“Why not?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, exactly. But-” 

“But as it happens, I do, Inspector. The mysterious 
Madam—or rather Monsieur—‘X’ and I are very well 
acquainted, indeed. Fact is, I probably know him more 
intimately than any one else in the world.” 

“The devil you say!—begging your pardon. Then I 
am glad enough to meet you. Who is-?” 

“You happen to be looking right at him.” 

“You? You, yourself? Say, you’re kidding.” The 
Inspector did more than look. He stared, open-mouthed. 

What he beheld was a quiet-appearing man in the 
middle-thirties, close to six feet tall and giving the 
impression of slenderness— a first impression which was 
dissipated when the observer took note of the breadth of 
his straight shoulders and the muscular development of 
his graceful body and well-turned legs, nicely set off by 
a rather close-fitting suit of clerical black. The face 
was pleasant and decidedly good to look upon, without 
being in any sense handsome, for its features were clean- 
cut and manly—straight nose, broad but shapely mouth, 
square chin, slightly cleft, and eyes large and set rather 
widely apart. Behind their rimless spectacles they 
appeared just a little tired, and indeed the whole appear¬ 
ance of his slightly pale countenance was rather scholarly 
than that of a man of action, although of course his past 
record belied that impression. At least, it was certain 


34 


“DEE DEE ” 


that he could be the latter, on occasion. His hair was 
dark brown, smooth, parted at the side, and just begin¬ 
ning to thin a little above the temples, a circumstance 
which increased the apparent height of his remarkably 
fine forehead. Quick to note distinguishing marks, 
Morrissy noticed a slight scar on his left cheek and 
observed that the tip of the lobe of that ear had been 
nipped off. 

“Yes. Me, myself,” answered Doctor Deane, after a 
slight pause. He spoke half apologetically. “Needless 
to say, that astounding fact isn’t for publication—indeed, 
until this minute it was a secret unshared with even one 
other, and I hope that a secret it may remain. Of 
course it’s nothing of which to be ashamed but—well, I 
can well imagine how some of the worthies of my down¬ 
town congregation would hold up their hands in holy 
horror if they should learn that I am—whatever I am, 
in this respect,” he added with a whimsical smile. 

“But—but- Well, I am jiggered! Er—take a 

chair, Doctor,” said the Inspector, making use of a 
commonplace to cover his incredulity. “This is unex¬ 
pected. It’s—it’s rather taken my wind away. You’re 
serious?” 

“Quite. I don’t suppose that I can blame you for 
being a bit astonished. It certainly isn’t according to 
Hoyle, and may seem even rather ridiculous for a minis¬ 
ter to be going in for this sort of thing. But I came 
prepared to establish my identity.” 

Morrissy observed that he was carrying a roll of limp, 
black leather—a manuscript cover such as some clergy¬ 
men make use of to hold their Sunday sermons. Doctor 



THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


35 


Deane now untied it, took out seven carbon copies of 
typewritten letters, six of which bore certain annotations 
in red ink on the upper left hand corner, and handed 
them over. The other glanced at them, briefly and 
passed them back. The case was proved. 

“D’ye mind if I light up the old doodeen?” he asked. 
“Maybe you-” 

The other checked the movement of the Inspector’s 
hand towards a half-emptied box of cigars, by saying, 
“No, thanks. That doesn’t mean that I object to your 
smoking—if you’ll loan me a pipeful of the wherewithal. 
I always carry a friendly brier, but came away from the 
house in such a hurry that I forgot to put my pouch in 
my pouche, as our French friends call a pocket.” He 
helped himself to Morrissy’s cut plug, adding, “Although 
I’m afraid that I smoke like the proverbial chimney I’ll 
try not to be like the Scotchman, who explained why he’d 
quit, by saying, ‘There’s nae pleasure in ut. When 
you’rrre smokin’ yourrr ain terbacker you’rrre all the 
time thinkin’ aboot the expense; and when you borrow 
some frae a friend you pack yourrr pipe sae full ut willna 
drraw.’ ” 

The Inspector laughed in hearty appreciation. “You 
must have Scotch blood in your own veins, to get a burr 
like that,” he remarked. 

“I have. My mother’s Scotch—God bless her.” 

They shared the same match, and a moment later were 
enjoying a mutual smoke-fest of the type which generally 
causes the male of the species to relax and expand, estab¬ 
lishing a wordless camaraderie and paving the way to 
understanding and confidences. 



36 


“DEE DEE 55 


After a moment’s silence the Inspector again burst out 
with, “Well, this certainly ‘gets’ me, Doctor. We’ve 
figured the unknown out as almost anything else—I’ve 
known detectives to assume the guise of ministers, more 
than once, but I never thought to see a D.D. turn 
detective.” 

“Oh, I haven’t actually turned. Nor do I intend to. 
I’m very much engaged in my usual vocation, seven days 
out of the week, and this other thing is merely avocation 
—a queer kind of hobby. By the way, Inspector, I’m 
here to carry out my part of the contract implied in that 
clipping. How about yours?” 

“Releasing Miss Willoughby, you mean? That goes, 
too—of course with the proviso that you explain your 
reason for making the request. That’s printed in the 
bond.” 

“Perhaps you’ve got me, there. It depends wholly 
upon whether or not you’re going to quibble over what 
constitutes ‘reason.’ I can state the grounds for my 
affirmation that she is entirely innocent of the shocking 
crime that was committed last night, and that she has 
no knowledge as to how it occurred. Whether you’ll con¬ 
sider it a reason, in the sense of something arrived at by 
the use of the rational faculties, so-called, is another 
matter. After that damaging admission on my part do 
you think that you’ll still be prepared to go through with 
the bargain?” 

Morrissy hesitated just an instant. Then, like a diver 
in unknown waters, he committed himself to Chance— 
“did a Steve Brodie,” as he afterwards expressed it. “I 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


37 


am. You’re honest about it, anyway, and that’s good 
enough for me.” 

“Much obliged—and I somehow thought that you’d 

be a sport about it and wouldn’t back out. Besides-” 

Dee Dee’s eyes began to twinkle again. “Besides, that 
newspaper item was primarily a bit of bait to toll me 
here, wasn’t it?” 

“You’ve said it! There’s little use in our trying to 
pull the wool over your eyes it seems, Doctor Deane. 
You’re particularly interested in this case, I take it?” 

“I am,” answered the Rector, shortly. 

“Thought so. Well, now all the cards are on the table. 
Now-” 

“For the reason? It is precisely that stated in my 
letter; no more, no less. I know that Anne Willoughby 
is innocent. She told me so, herself, three hours ago, 
and she told the truth. That’s all.” 

“That’s—all?” The Inspector echoed the words in 
surprised interrogation. Whatever he might have ex¬ 
pected, it was certainly not that. Then he laughed as a 
man sometimes does who has thrown dice with Fate, 
and lost, yet not bitterly. “So that’s that. Well, it 
would hardly go as evidence in a criminal court, but it 
does with me. I don’t understand but I won’t back 
down. Maybe you’ll ‘let me in on the know,’ as the 
sports say, but here goes.” He turned to his desk, scrib¬ 
bled a brief order, rang for the officer in attendance in 
the waiting room, and handed it to him with the verbal 
instruction, “Have the matron bring Miss Willoughby 
to the outside room and remain with her, there, until I 
send for her. And—by the way—she can inform the 




38 


“DEE DEE” 


young lady that she is about to be set free, at least for 
the time being.” 

As the door closed again on the outwardly emotionless 
but inwardly astonished officer, Morrissy turned back 
to the Rector, remarking, “I’m keeping absolutely to the 
letter of my promise, you see, but that doesn’t necessarily 
mean that Miss Willoughby will not be held under pretty 
strict surveillance, until we know something more about 
this crime than we do now. It’s only reasonable that we 
shall want to have some strings on her-” 

“And incidentally on me as well, perhaps?” inter¬ 
rupted Dee Dee, without, however, losing his friendly 
smile. “I have an idea that you may be thinking, ‘the 
possibility of her being dragged back to her dungeon 
cell should act as a spur on our friend, here, and make 
him loosen up with some information about which I’m 
rather curious.’ Touche , eh? Come, don’t look so 
sheepish, Inspector. I commend your caution—would 
doubtless have done the same thing, in your place—but 
as it happens it is unnecessary, for I’m prepared to 
‘come through clean,’ as we used to say in the army. 
I’d give another guess, too, namely, that your bark is 
worse than your bite. You really have no idea that Miss 
Willoughby may be re-arrested, now have you, Mor¬ 
rissy? I thought not.” 

“Say, when do 1 answer one of your questions?” 

“When I answer one of them wrong. You’re about as 
nearly convinced that she is entirely innocent, as I am, 
in spite of the evidence. But what’s your belief based 
on? Wouldn’t your answer have to be the same as mine 
—the so-called woman’s reason ‘Because’? You couldn’t 



THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


39 


give a rational explanation of it, but I’m pretty certain 
that you feel that way. Silence seems to give assent. 
We’re getting on, and now that we understand each 
other-” 

“Oh, we do, do we? Maybe you understand me—I 
ain’t saying yes or no to your guess about my feelings as 
to her innocence—but I am blessed if I understand 
you” 

“All right. You may start firing your questions when 
ready, and I’ll promise to answer them as freely and 
frankly as possible, merely requesting that my replies, 
and my nefarious secret, be kept a matter of confidence 
between us two, unless I later agree to raise the embargo 
in that respect.” 

“That goes with me, Doctor.” 

“I was sure that it would. In addition, I gladly pledge 
myself to help you, in this case, in any way I can and to 
the fullest extent of my limited ability. That may not 
mean anything, but the promise is yours for what it is 
worth. I’d have done it, in any event.” 

“Now you’re talking,” exclaimed the Inspector, again 
extending his hand to seal the compact and his face show¬ 
ing forth his pleasure. “Believe me, I’ve a barrel of 
questions to ask about every one of those cases that 
you’ve written in to us regarding, and how you struck on 
the right clues when we were blundering about in a hope¬ 
less muddle—Oh, yes, we were, all right. But first, 
though, I’m da—almighty curious to learn however a 
minister like yourself came to get mixed up in amateur 
sleuthing at all?” 

“That’s easy—the easiest conundrum of the lot to 



40 


“DEE DEE ” 


answer, so it’s a good thing that you started with it. It 
was the result of a depraved taste in literature, so-called, 
during the days of callow youth, and which still persists. 
I don’t by any means confine my recreative reading to 
mystery and detective stories, but I’ll admit that I’m 
particularly partial to that type of story, just as Wood- 
row Wilson was. 

“Of course I started as a boy with Old King Brady, 
and graduated to Conan Doyle’s ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ since 
which time I’ve passed down the whole line, through 
Anna Katherine Greene, Max Rohmer, Louis Tracy, 
J. S. Fletcher, and Vance, to and including the real 
masters, Poe and Gaborieau. And I’m still at it. The 
announcement that a new detective story has been pub¬ 
lished starts my mouth watering, and this in spite of the 
fact that romance, in books, is beginning to lose its savor 
a little. I find, nowadays, that I can guess the outcome 
of most mystery stories, pretty early in the game, if the 
author has played anything like fair and hasn’t brought 
about a far-fetched or utterly incredible denouement. 
Hence my initial interest in the real thing in criminology. 

“Well, like most imaginative boys, I suppose, I decided 
that when I grew up I would be a great detective, and 
I would certainly have been properly insulted if any one 
had suggested that instead I would turn out to be a 
Doctor of Divinity—that sounds rather like a couplet 
from a Gilbert and Sullivan opera, doesn’t it? The fact 
is that I didn’t even begin to consider entering the min¬ 
istry until I was two years out of college. It doesn’t 
matter why I did, then, but I’ve never regretted my 
decision, and am sure that I never shall regret it.” 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


41 


“Maybe you’re right,” interrupted Morrissy. “But it 
looks like the world lost-” 

“Not a bit of it. Wait until you hear the disappoint¬ 
ing truth. Well, during that two-year period I held down 
a job as a cub reporter on one of the big dailies—about 
the most lurid of the lot—and although of course I never 
had a chance at any real big ‘crime’ story, I handled 
plenty of the petty variety. I read the others, though; 
studied them and frequently worked out solutions on 
my own hook. It was generally a case of guesswork, 
probably, but I used to air my views and give loud tongue 
to my theories, cub fashion, about the office, and the 
funny part of it was that more often than not I was able 
later to say T told you so’—and generally did say it, I’m 
afraid. To make my confession complete I’d have to 
add that I sometimes made more than my weekly wage 
by backing up my opinions with bets. Alas for the sins 
of our youth!” 

Dee Dee smiled apologetically and the Inspector broke 
in with, “I wish that you’d joined the police, then.” 

“My impulse happened to be in the opposite direction, 
and I joined the priesthood instead,” laughed the nar¬ 
rator. “When I entered the portals of the Theological 
Seminary I naturally thought that I was putting the 
devil and all his works behind me, but it seemed that the 
bug was in my system, and wouldn’t out. Hence my 
present avocation—it’s merely that. I guess your ques¬ 
tion is answered and we’d better turn from ancient his¬ 
tory to the matter which brings me here.” 

“Sure. That is, if you insist. But I can’t get over 



42 


“DEE DEE ” 


the feeling that it’s darned funny to find a minister and 
a detective, rolled into one.” 

“It is odd, I suppose. Yet that might serve as the sub¬ 
ject for debate. I think I could put up quite an argu¬ 
ment on the proposition that society would be benefited 
if priest and policeman, churchman and criminologist, 
should join forces intelligently—it would be one union 
of the Church and State to which I could heartily 
subscribe.” 

The Inspector indicated his doubt and Dee Dee con¬ 
tinued, enthusiastically, “Well, why not? Both are 
directly interested in putting an end to crime, though 
in different ways. You condemn the sinner; we, the sin. 
You try to check the physical wrong-doing; we, to check 
or remove the impulse which leads to it. You restrain 
and punish the corporal man; we—if we can—heal and 
strengthen the soul. But both of us have one common 
aim, at least—the betterment of this present-day world, 
although we go a step farther than that. 

“You act; we talk, primarily. But words frequently 
breed actions, either good or bad, and where our preach¬ 
ing is effective, your labors are lightened. Conversely, 
where you succeed in keeping evil from running riot we 
have a better chance to check crime at its source—in 
the mind and soul. But that’s enough of that. You’re a 
busy man, and I imagine that reformers’ theories make 
you tired—they do me.” 

Morrissy started again, recalling what he had himself 
remarked to Duggan, just before Doctor Deane was 
shown in. 

“Sometimes,” he replied, guardedly. “But not a bit 


THE REV. DAVID DEANE, D.D. 


43 


of it, in the present case.” And this was no polite pre¬ 
varication, for he had become deeply interested in his 
caller and his new—to him—point of view. 

“We’ll have to chew the whole subject over, together, 
some evening—that is, if you’re willing. But just now 
I’m still more interested in finding out just how you have 
solved our mysteries for us, with such almost uncanny 
success. Remember, you promised to ‘come through 
clean.’ ” 


CHAPTER IV 


SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 

“Yes. Of course. Certainly, Inspector. But about 
Miss Willoughby-” 

“I know. She can wait a few moments, now. I’ve set 
her mind more at ease, and you’re going to get her soon.” 
Doctor Deane started almost visibly, but not noticing it 
the Inspector continued, “In fact, I’m going to make you 
more or less responsible for her since I’m releasing her 
at your request and solely on your say-so. But my 
motto is ‘One thing at a time,’ and the thing at the pres¬ 
ent time is that I’ve got the elusive ‘X’ here in my office 
and it’s worth a devil of a lot to me to know what he 
knows—not so much about this one case as the others. 
How the deuce you do it. How the deuce do you do it?” 

Doctor Deane made a grimace. “Well,” he said. He 
paused with obvious reluctance to proceed. Meanwhile 
the Inspector leaned expectantly forward, hands on his 
knees, pipe clenched between his teeth and—for a won¬ 
der—extinct. 

Then the other began, hesitatingly. 

“To tell the truth, I don’t know how to commence. If 
I should spring the explanation of my ability, such as it is, 
straight off the bat you wouldn’t believe it. More likely 
than not you’d telephone for your official alienist. If I’m 
going to explain it at all you’ll have to bear with me 
and let me do it my own way. I’ll probably want to let 
44 



SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 


45 


you in gradually, wading through shallow water before 
we take the final plunge. It’ll also probably mean my 
delivering a sort of dissertation on some of my own 
theories. With all that ahead of you are you still insist¬ 
ent that I go on?” 

“You bet! You can’t scare me off that way.” Mor- 
rissy’s tone was so decisively hearty as to leave no doubt 
as to his sincerity. 

Dee Dee groaned, then grinned. “Very well, on 
your own head be it. I guess that I can stand it, if you 
can. I’m used to preaching to small congregations, 
although one is about the limit. Come, light up. You 
might as well be comfortable—and this may sound like a 
pipe dream, anyhow. All set?” 

The Inspector nodded. 

“We’re off, then. I’ve got to start by disappointing 
you. At least you’re doomed to a distressing disillusion¬ 
ment if you are expecting to hear described the opera¬ 
tions of a gigantic intellect; a ‘master mind’ that’s cap¬ 
able of solving a complex mystery from a minute clue. 
There’s absolutely nothing doing along those lines. Back 
in college days we used to sing a silly topical song a 
couple of lines from which ran, ‘I can tell from the speck 
of mud upon your neck the place where you were born; 
and simply from a touch I can tell you how much you 
have to go in pawn,’—but I’ll be blessed if I can. 

“I have an idea that I can reason, both deductively 
and inductively, with a fair amount of cogency and logic, 
thanks to my fiction training in the science. But I have 
to have something pretty fairly definite to work on— 
established facts. The ‘speck of mud’ doesn’t mean a 


46 


“ DEE DEE ” 


thing to me, although Sherlock Holmes might see a uni¬ 
verse in it. In that respect I’m no more efficient, per¬ 
haps, than any man on the Force, and probably not 
nearly as efficient as yourself, for example. However, I 
do sometimes secure the necessary starting point from 
which to work, where the ordinary man wouldn’t, by—as 
the result of—oh, hang it, we’re right back where we 
started from.” 

He broke off, twisted uneasily in his chair, and then 
shot out the question, “Do you believe in hunches, 
Inspector?” 

“Sure I do. I’ve Irish blood in my veins. At least, I 
do within reason. But-” 

“Wait a jiffy. How would you define what we, per¬ 
haps for want of a better name, call a ‘hunch’?” 

“Hanged if I know. You just have ’em, that’s all.” 

“ ‘Ain’t it de troof?’ as our colored friends are sup¬ 
posed to say. And a real hunch is something entirely 
different from a mere guess. There’s something definite, 
compelling about it, isn’t there? You agree with me 
about that, I see. Well, now you’re in for it—my dis¬ 
sertation on what might be called ‘psychics.’ I feel fully 
qualified to deliver it since I know nothing whatever 
about the subject, except what little I’ve doped out from 
my own personal and rather unusual experience. Still 
game?” 

“Sure. Shoot!” responded the other, slowly packing 
the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, crumb by crumb, 
to aid him in covering up his ever growing astonishment. 
He was thinking, “What in the devil’s coming, now?” 
Accustomed he was to facing novel situations with 



SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 


47 


studied impassiveness of mind and expression, but this 
was truly a new one on him. 

“It’s not going to be easy for me to explain this thing. 
And although I’m not keen on doing all the talking I’m 
going to ask you to refrain from interrupting with ques¬ 
tions or starting any argument—if you can help it—until 
I’ve got it all out of my system. And don’t look too 
incredulous. Some statements that I shall have to make 
will probably sound utterly crazy. Nevertheless I have 
reason to believe that I am at least as sane as the average 
mortal. 

“To run true to form I should begin by saying, ‘The 
text for the first part of my discourse is—“Instinct”.’ 
Every one knows that all animals and primitive peoples 
—which are low down in the scale of what we are pleased 
to call civilization—possess this faculty, or natural en¬ 
dowment, to a marked degree. It’s distinct from ‘rea¬ 
son’; and mankind seems to have lost it in ratio with the 
development of the brain as a purely thinking trained 
instrument. I say ‘seems’ to have lost it; I don’t believe 
that we really have. At least one manifestation of it is 
fairly common. What we call ‘intuition’ is often sur¬ 
prisingly active and effective, especially in women—I 
don’t know why, unless it is that the female of the 
species is more elemental than the male. That isn’t 
meant in any derogatory sense. But woman is the pro¬ 
ducing—the ‘mothering’—being, and so closely akin to 
Nature in some respects. Of course her brain is as 
capable of being developed into a high-class thinking 
machine as is a man’s; but, taking her as a class, the 
development was retarded by prohibitions, and hasn’t 


48 


“DEE DEE ” 


gone so far. The result seems to be that the more primi¬ 
tive instincts—including intuition—haven’t been so com¬ 
pletely superseded, and in certain individuals are very 
strong. She is prone still to jump at conclusions without 
knowing why she does—and the surprising thing about it 
is that her intuitive convictions are so often accurate. 
Surprising from a man’s point of view, I mean.” 

In spite of his amazement at the course which the con¬ 
versation had taken, and the prohibition against inter¬ 
rupting, Morrissy could not refrain from saying, with a 
grin, “Ever hear the joke about a woman’s brain? It’s 
something she uses to guess with.” 

Dee Dee laughed. “Only perhaps her ‘guessing’ is 
something else again—something that mere man scoffs 
at, because he can’t understand it or explain it by the 
laws of logic. He has been educated in rules. 

“But to get on with my learned discourse—and you 
have certainly let us both in for something. There is 
still another manifestation of what I may call this ‘X’ 
faculty—perhaps a higher development of it although the 
development is in most cases probably sub-conscious. I 
mean ‘mind-reading.’ Still farther up the scale is mental 
telepathy. These things can, and certainly do, occur; 
not often, to be sure, but frequently enough so that any 
fair-minded, intelligent man must admit it, even though 
it can’t be explained with scientific formulas, yet. In the 
far East no one would think of questioning it and the art 
is practiced quite commonly by the priests of certain 
ancient religious cults. 

“The final, and still controverted, manifestation of this 
non-reasoning faculty of our little-understood sub-con- 


SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 


49 


scious brain, is clairvoyancy, divination, inner sight— 
whatever you want to call it.” 

For the third time the Inspector was conscious of a 
distinct start. 

“That’s a little too strong for you? Well, I’m not 
holding any brief for it—it goes several steps beyond the 
scope of my present thesis. But, to my way of thinking, 
which very likely isn’t in the least scientific, these are all 
manifestations of what we call the ‘sixth sense’—a sense 
once probably possessed in some degree by all mankind 
in common with the animals, but later lost through 
disuse. 

“There’s nothing abnormal or supernatural about it. 
As I said, very likely it was part of our original faculty 
equipment, like the senses of smell and of hearing, both 
of which we have lost to a less, but nevertheless marked, 
degree as well. It has simply become a forgotten art 
to most of the human race, although it does crop out— 
occasionally and inexplicably—in isolated cases. That’s 
what makes me believe that it is probably dormant in 
all of us, being active in only a few. What man or 
woman hasn’t, on occasion, been startled by the con¬ 
sciousness that—well, that he was actually aware, in 
advance, just what another was going to say, even the 
very words?” 

“I don’t know for certain about myself; but my wife 
seems to have my number that way, frequently—espe¬ 
cially when I’m going to say ‘No’,” laughed the 
Inspector. 

“Many a true word spoken in jest! It’s a case in 
point, however. I suppose that the thing happens most 


50 


“ DEE DEE” 


frequently in the case of married couples, who grow to be 
tuned to one another, psychically, so to speak—unless 
the contrary happens and they become ‘like sweet bells 
jangled out of tune.’ We usually try to pass off such 
instances as queer coincidences; but isn’t it more rea¬ 
sonable to regard them as bits of unconscious mind-read¬ 
ing—momentary liftings of the veil which the hand of 
cold reason has let down between our present-day brain 
and its almost forgotten sixth sense. It seems so to me, 
and I believe that the human race may—and probably 
will, sooner or later—recapture the secret and make it a 
scientific fact. 

“The Herztian waves of the wireless telegraph and 
radio are probably the mechanically produced equiva¬ 
lent of this natural force, and further advances in the 
knowledge of their properties, and electro-magnetic prop¬ 
erties in general, may eventually bridge the gap between 
the physical and the psychical. Our children’s children 
may yet be living and breathing psycho-radio transmit¬ 
ting and receiving sets. That isn’t at all beyond the 
realm of human probability. But when it happens there 
will be a new earth, and you policemen will be looking 
for new jobs. Your criminal won’t stand a chance.” 

“Guess that I won’t be resigning, yet,” grinned the 
Inspector. 

“I shouldn’t. We’re still a long, long way from the 
event. But that’s my thesis, and it has a direct bearing 
on my being an amateur detective.” 

“You mean that your mother is clairvoyant? I’ve 
always heard that the Scotch-” 

“No. It’s worse than that. The time has come for 


SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 


51 


me to disclose my dark secret fully—but for goodness’ 
sake, keep it dark. My excellent parishioners devoutly 
believe in Old Testament miracles of spiritual com¬ 
munication, but most of them just as definitely believe 
that the day for what they would call manifestations of 
the occult, ended long ago. Aside from a comparatively 
few enlightened minds—like you and me—the materialis¬ 
tic modern world scoffs at the possession of such abnor¬ 
mal faculties—as it would call them. Yet of course they 
are, or it is, as much the gift of God as any of the other 
five senses. Except for the restraining influence of civ¬ 
ilization, most men would be as ready to yell ‘Witchcraft’ 
and call for the faggot pile as our ancestors of the 
Middle Ages were, or even those of three hundred years 
ago right here in progressive America. Instead, they 
yell for an alienist, and try to have the ‘deluded’ indi¬ 
vidual locked up in an asylum or sanatorium, depending 
upon whether he has, or hasn’t, any money. Or, as a 
possible alternative, let ’em become performers for their 
bemused amusement, regarding them as pure fakirs— 
which most of the professional ilk are, of course. 

“And now ‘the time has come, the walrus said,’ to dis¬ 
close the horrible truth. I’ve possessed this sixth sense 
to a rather considerable degree, ever since I was a 
kid.” 

“You? Yourself?” burst out the Inspector for the 
second time. And Dee Dee responded as before, “Yes, 
me, myself.” 

“Well, that does beat the very devil. Of course I 
guessed what you were driving at, but I thought you 
meant your mother—you kept talking about women- 



52 


“DEE DEE” 


Well, that’s the limit. A minister who’s also a detective 
is—is-” 

“Bad enough?” suggested the other, laughing. 

“Say, ‘strange enough.’ But one who is also a clair¬ 
voyant- So ’twas that, after all. I told Daley that 

I didn’t believe-” 

“And you needn’t, now. I said that I held no brief 
for clairvoyancy—although I’m not a scoffer. In my 
case the faculty doesn’t go anything like as far as that. 
It’s merely mind-reading, and only to a limited extent, 
for I’m unable to turn the current on and off, at will, as 
you can with a mechanical radio.” 

Observing that Morrissy’s face showed incredulous 
bewilderment, the Rector hurried on, with some nervous¬ 
ness. 

“I suppose that I can’t hope to explain it to you, 
since I can’t explain it to myself. It’s like one of your 
hunches—it just happens. Perhaps I can’t even succeed 
in convincing you that it is so, but having gone this far 
I’m certainly not going to quit without making a good 
try,” said Dee Dee, stubbornly. 

“This much I do know for a fact. Tucked away some¬ 
where in my cranium there is apparently a sort of Herz- 
tian wave receiving set, or perhaps something which might 
be likened to a sensitized film capable of recording 
thought-impressions, under certain conditions. One thing, 
at least, is a dead certainty. There are times when it re¬ 
produces with perfect distinctness, thoughts which don’t 
have their origin in my conscious brain, and that they 
are emitted from the brain of some one else is a fact that 
I’ve established by any number of tests. When it does 


SURPRISING DISCLOSURES 


S3 


happen the thought impressions are perfectly clear, accu¬ 
rate and instantaneous. I have to accept them. I don’t 
know how it happens but I do know when I’m recording, 
so to speak. There are no physical symptoms which 
accompany it. It’s not a trance, and I’m not in the least 
like that remarkable fiction-character, Karl Greer, if 
you’ve ever read Tracy’s novel by that name.” 

Morrissy shook his head. 

“You might find it remarkably entertaining—that is, if 
you are interested in things psychic. Well, as I said 
before, I can’t deliberately tune my brain to a state of 
receptivity. Sometimes I go for weeks and months with¬ 
out a hint that I possess this faculty. Then it’ll happen; 
perhaps an isolated case, perhaps a continuous perform¬ 
ance for a while. During that time I’m thinking two 
persons’ thoughts, simultaneously—my own and the 
other fellow’s. But one thing is sure. It only occurs 
when I am greatly excited over something, or moved 
by some powerful emotion—maybe keen pleasure or sor¬ 
row, sympathy or real prayer, even though that be 
subconscious. A mere lip petition isn’t sufficient, no 
matter how sincere it may be. 

“There. That’s the truth, the whole truth and noth¬ 
ing but the truth, whether you believe it or not, friend 
Morrissy. You forced me to disclose it and I’ve got to 
admit that it’s a queer proposition and probably a 
sticker, judged by the accepted standards of human 
knowledge. Still it’s so—and nothing to be either 
ashamed or especially proud of. But since I’m person¬ 
ally convinced that it is a God-given faculty, I’m humbly 
grateful that I can make use of it, once in a while, in 


54 


“ DEE DEE” 


the service of others—by freeing the innocent from your 
clutches, for example,” he concluded, smiling. 

“Sure, I believe it,” responded the Inspector, trying 
hard to make his voice sound sincere. 

“ ‘Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief’,” the Rec¬ 
tor quoted softly, with a little shake of his head. “I 
shouldn’t blame you if you had said, ‘No, I don’t believe 
a blamed word of it!’ Mighty few of us can fully credit 
something which we haven’t ourselves seen, heard or 
experienced. I know, for I deal in ‘Faith.’ It’s a rare 
virtue, complete faith. And I imagine that you wouldn’t 
have been much more surprised if I had asked you, seri¬ 
ously, ‘Do you believe in fairies?’ 

“And now, about Miss-” 

“Oh, sure. But hold on a minute longer. There are 

one or two things- Do you mind if I ask for just a 

few specific instances? Of course I understand- No, 

not that, exactly. I mean I believe you, but-” 

“All right. If I can’t convince you fully, now, the 
case will be hopeless. And I suppose that the time to 
strike is when the iron’s hot. You seem to be ‘warming 
up’ to my proposition, at least, and perhaps I can pick 
out a few cases which will help to satisfy your insatiable 
greed for more, more. Only please don’t keep me at it 
much longer. I want to discuss the murder of Mr. 
Sommes with you and get Anne away from here.” 

“Right. But go ahead. I’m all ears, as the jackass 
said.” 






CHAPTER V 


THE SIXTH SENSE 

Dee Dee refilled and lighted his pipe. 

Then he continued, “ ‘Cases alter circumstances’—as 
the lawyer remarked, reversing the old saw. Perhaps a 
few cases will help to alter your preconceived ideas, and 
convince you that I’m ‘not like other men’—the kind of 
a nut I’ve described, if you prefer it that way. 

“Going back a bit, take your own statement that I 
gained some reputation on the college gridiron. I had a 
fairly muscular, active body and an instinct for sports, 
but you may—or may not—remember that my chief 
claim to fame rested on my alleged ability to outguess 
an opponent—to anticipate his play. The sporting 
scribes used to state that I was a ‘brainy’ player. I 
wasn’t. 

“It was a clear case of mind-reading, induced by the 
excitement of the moment. I didn’t realize it, then. I, 
too, called it ‘guessing.’ If I had fully understood the 
facts I hope that I would have been a good sport enough 
to have quit playing. But then I didn’t understand that 
I was really taking an unfair advantage—that I differed 
from others to such an extent. I half guessed it, at times, 
and it disturbed me; but I was more concerned in help¬ 
ing my college win, to the best of my ability. You see 
I was then just a healthy, eager boy. I had a fair share 
55 


56 


“DEE DEE ” 


of the Anglo-Saxon honor, I think, but no very meticu¬ 
lous scruples. Now, I can explain what happened. Un¬ 
der the urge of extreme excitement my subconscious 
receptivity was stirred. At the same time the conscious 
transmitter of the thought—the opposing quarter-back— 
was also excited and concentrating to a high degree on 
the play. The thought wave ‘got over/ that’s all. It 
was neither brainwork nor guesswork, on my part. Per¬ 
haps you may recall that the last year I was on the 
team I actually gave defence-formation signals, fre¬ 
quently, and we almost always smeared the attack when 
I did.” 

“No. I follow the sports a bit, but don’t remember 
that. However, it seems to me that Walter Camp placed 
you on his All-American team—and no wonder.” 

Dee Dee nodded. “Under false pretenses,” he said. 

“I don’t see it that way. A successful man is success¬ 
ful because of the fact that he has some faculty or other 
more highly developed than the average run.” 

“Maybe so. Only the test of success should be in hav¬ 
ing consciously improved himself and his natural capa¬ 
bilities. I did nothing. However, that’s that. Now for 
another clean cut case—and oddly enough it’s also con¬ 
nected with the newspaper record of my life, which you 
mentioned. I don’t enjoy talking about this incident, 
but I’m going to tell you the story of it, briefly, for I 
want you to believe. 

“It happened in France. I was an army chaplain. A 
Bob Neville was a first lieutenant in the same outfit and 
became my most intimate friend—my buddy. He’s one 
of the mighty few people with whom I’ve ever discussed 


THE SIXTH SENSE 


57 


this queer faculty of mine. He believed in it and we got 
to be in pretty close accord about most things. It hap¬ 
pened during one of our attacks in the Argonne forest. 
The battalion—what was left of it—had been tempo¬ 
rarily checked and driven back by the Boche machine 
guns concealed in concrete dugouts among the trees. I 
was working with the stretcher-bearers, locating the 
wounded and getting them back of our rather sketchy 
line, and things were a bit hot even though it was sup¬ 
posed to be an interlude between attacks. I didn’t even 
know Bob was missing, when suddenly I heard him call¬ 
ing me from somewhere up ahead. I don’t mean that lit¬ 
erally. What I do mean is that I received a definite and 
impelling thought message from him—calling me. In 
fact,” added the speaker, in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, 
“I thought he was going West—or had gone.” 

Morrissy did not interrupt, but he was conscious of 
little chilly fingers playing up and down his spine. He 
had had a boy killed “over there.” 

“It turned out, however, that he was merely down with 
a severe wound and lying, agonized, under a bush almost 
directly in front of a German machine gun nest. You 
see, it was another case of mutual high tension. 

“The citation called it ‘bravery,’ but hanged if I can 
see it that way. I went to him because I hud to go. My 
act was one of impulse and without consideration. His 
thought-waves led me every step of the way—if you can 
call crawling on your belly, stepping. Marconi, I think, 
has devised a radio compass by means of which a ship, 
by keeping in adjustment with the sending instrument 
on shore, can be guided through the thickest fog to the 


58 


“DEE DEE ” 


harbor. It was just as simple for me as for the helms¬ 
man of such a vessel. Never before nor since have I 
received a mental wave from any such distance; but I 
did that day, and was able to go directly to the place 
where he was lying. Getting him back under fire wasn’t 
quite as easy, though, I’ve got to admit,” added the 
speaker, and Morrissy whispered, “God!” 

With an embarrassed grin Dee Dee said, “That’s when 
I got—or lost— this” His fingers touched his slightly 
mutilated ear. “You may take my word for it that these 
two instances are facts absolutely, Inspector, and I 
hope-” 

“You win. I’m convinced, now. That last yarn did 

it, though d-d if I understand it at all. Well, live 

and learn. Fifty years ago, or less, folks would have 
hooted at the idea of wireless, flying machines—oh, a 
hundred things that today are commonplaces. But let’s 
get down to cases—I mean the criminal cases in which a 
mysterious chap who signed his communications ‘X’ 
interested himself. What about them?” 

“I’ll be glad to go in detail into every one of them 
when there’s more time. But perhaps it will be enough 
for me to tell you, now, that in each of them my lucky 
solution resulted from the acquisition of facts, or knowl¬ 
edge, gained in just the same way—by mind-reading. Of 
course it didn’t always furnish me with the answer direct, 
and I’ve been a little tickled with myself over having 
done some fairly creditable deductive reasoning from the 
facts supplied by the newspapers, plus one or two that I 
gleaned for myself. But I don’t deserve any real credit. 
I had a lot the better of you fellows in absolutely know- 




THE SIXTH SENSE 


59 


ing that the particular individual whose guilt you were 
reasonably assuming—and to the establishment of which 
you were bending all your energies—was innocent.” 

“But how?” Morrissy shot out the question with a 
bullet-like abruptness which made the other start. 

“Oh, it happened that in every one of those cases I was 
able to talk with them, in jail or elsewhere; got them to 
talk in turn—as only one of my ilk, who claims to be 
somewhat of a he-man can, we ministers have certain 
special privileges, you know—and either read their 
minds or at least knew that they were telling the truth 
when they affirmed their innocence.” 

“Hmm. That doesn’t altogether jibe, does it?” The 
Inspector jumped at what he thought was a flaw in Dee 
Dee’s recital. “How did you get sufficiently stirred up, 
as you say, to-” 

“Didn’t always. I did on one or two occasions, but I 
haven’t yet mentioned one other thing, which is perhaps 
a corollary to my mind-reading stunt. I can almost with¬ 
out fail tell when a person is speaking the truth. Or 
rather the converse is true; I can tell when he, or she, is 
lying. The thought transference comes only in occa¬ 
sional flashes but in this latter respect my sixth sense 
seems to be always on tap. I can’t explain that, either, 
but I know. The falsehood doesn’t ring true on my inner 
ear. The sound is—well, sort of muddied, if you can get 
the idea.” 

“But how-?” 

“Don’t ask me. I said I didn’t know, but it’s a fact. 
Perhaps it is a case of intuition, pure and simple. I 
think that mother has the same faculty. However that 




60 


“ DEE DEE” 


may be, if I were still addicted to the pernicious habit 
of betting,” he smiled, “—I’d be willing to back myself 
to nail a lie, ninety-nine times out of the hundred; and 
against either your Third Degree artist or any mechani¬ 
cal lie-detector yet invented to test the veracity of a 
witness, such as I’ve read about in the newspapers. And 
I bet I’d win, too. Moreover, the possession of this par¬ 
ticular faculty is rather distressing at times, let me tell 
you. You’d be surprised to know how many people 
prevaricate, habitually, without any possible reason. It 
almost does seem as though human speech had been 
invented to enable us to conceal, rather than to express, 
our thoughts. Animals at least tell the truth on all 
occasions—with the possible exception of cats.” 

“ ‘Cats’?” 

Morrissy passed his hand across his brow with a 
gesture indicating daze. 

“What’s the matter? Is my reference to the brutes 
the final straw? Pshaw! Any lover of animals would 
tell you that. Besides, don’t forget that my thesis was 
built on the theory that the sixth sense is particularly an 
animal attribute. In possessing it I am pretty closely 
akin to the beasts of the fields and fowls of the air— 
I haven’t tried it on the ‘little fishes in the brook/ yet. 
Why, I have a Belgian police dog that I brought home 
with me from France, as a puppy, that’s got me beaten 
a mile in this respect. I don’t say that he can read my 
conscious thoughts, but he instantly senses my moods 
and impulses. The villain doesn’t live who could lie to 
him by assuming a smiling mask to cover fear or dislike. 
Deedon—that’s his name—is a second Strongheart. He 


THE SIXTH SENSE 


61 


can reason to a considerable extent, too, but his intuition 
is positively marvelous.” 

“Ought to be useful in my business. What’ll you take 
for this paragon of a pup?” 

“Not for sale, Inspector,” responded Dee Dee with a 
smile. 

“Before we quit this one-sided conversation there’s just 
one thing more that I want to add, by way of self- 
defense, even though you haven’t accused me of evil 
doing. Occasionally I’ve stumbled on actual clues or 
solutions of crime mysteries through these mind-reading 
stunts of mine, but I want you to believe that I’ve tried 
never to take what might be called an unfair advantage. 

“In a few instances, knowledge of the truth has come to 
me in this manner under such circumstances that it has 
seemed to me to fall under the head of a professional 
confidence—almost a confession without words. I’ve 
kept those strictly to myself and must continue to do so 
—yes, even if it should happen in this case, which isn’t 
likely. Although you haven’t heard from me, at such 
times, once or twice I’ve acted on my own hook—been a 
sort of one-man police force and court of law, combined, 
with a bit of the Church thrown in for good measure. 

“A case somewhat in point—although I did communi¬ 
cate with you regarding it—was that of the Williamson 
diamond necklace theft. Remember it?” 

“Hmm—Let’s see. As I recall, when we made a 
search after Mrs. W. had notified us of the loss, we dis¬ 
covered the trinket—valued at fifty thousand, or better 
—hidden in a bureau drawer in the chauffeur’s room. He 
refused to make any statement about it or deny that he 


62 


“DEE DEE 


was the thief, so we ran him in, and the D. A. got ready 
for trial. Then we received one of the famous ‘X’ let¬ 
ters, affirming his innocence and containing certain 
alleged evidence which would, if true, establish a clean- 
cut alibi for him. We checked up the facts; they were 
true, and we let him go, Mrs. Williamson agreeing that 
we had made a mistake. Said she was convinced of his 
innocence. Your work?” 

Dee Dee nodded his assent. 

“The necklace was returned and she wanted the case 
dropped.” 

“Neat enough to go in a nutshell. Want to hear the 
inside story? There’s no harm in telling it, now. Well, 
the lad was a member of my church, a devout, honorable 
boy and an ex-service man in whom I had taken a deep 
personal interest. I visited him in jail, of course. I 
pleaded with him to take me into his confidence and he 
refused. Both of us got all ‘het up’—as they say down 
East—and all of a sudden I ‘registered.’ It was astound¬ 
ing. I seemed to—I did —read his thoughts like a book 
and discovered the truth he was deliberately trying to 
conceal. 

“Without being conscious of it, he told me as plainly 
as though he had been speaking that the day the neck¬ 
lace was stolen he was away from the city. Mrs. Wil¬ 
liamson had forgotten that fact. He had left the previ¬ 
ous night, at which time she was wearing the necklace at 
a ball, and hadn’t returned until after the time when the 
loss was discovered, the next evening. Of course there 
was a woman in the case—Mrs. Williamson’s pretty 
maid, whom she trusted absolutely. And, of course, the 


THE SIXTH SENSE 


63 


chauffeur was in love with her, desperately. It was 
mutual and they were planning to be married—they have 
been, since, and are living happily out West, but you 
don’t get the address from me, my friend. 

“Elsie was really a good girl, but she fell to a sudden, 
overwhelming temptation, as the daughters of Eve some¬ 
times will. When her lover returned she had already 
come to her senses and was frightened to death over what 
she had done. She confessed to him, and he took the 
necklace from her promising to see that it was returned 
to Mrs. Williamson somehow. She had wholly lost her 
nerve and didn’t dare go to her mistress and tell the 
truth. He meant to replace it at the first possible oppor¬ 
tunity in order that her theft might not be known, 
thereby making the common mistake of not facing the 
music and making a clean breast of the affair. Before he 
could carry out his design, however, Mrs. Williamson 
discovered her loss—and you did the rest. She was so 
bitter at having been robbed by one of her own servants 
that he decided to assume the burden of the guilt lest 
the truth should come to light, somehow. It was prob¬ 
ably foolish and perhaps unnecessarily Quixotic—but he 
was in love, and determined to sacrifice himself for the 
sake of the girl, even though it meant being ‘sent up’ for 
a long term.” 

“As he would have been if you hadn’t stepped in,” 
interrupted the Inspector, dryly. 

“Oh, sure. Well, armed with this knowledge, acquired 
as I have described, I called on the fairly distracted 
girl. She broke down and corroborated the facts with a 
full confession. I even persuaded her to make a belated 


64 


“DEE DEE” 


statement of the truth to her mistress and eventually 
won the latter around and got her to let the case drop. 
Of course both o'f them left her employ, voluntarily. 
You see how simple it was—for me. It was another 
case where I deserve no real credit.” 

“There might be a difference of opinion as to that,” 
answered the Inspector. Then he grinned. “Bet you 
married the pair of scamps yourself, and shipped them 
out West.” 

“You win.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“Well, ninthly—as we parsons are all supposed to say 
in the course of our discourses—you will remember that 
I’ve never butted in on one of your cases unless I could 
demonstrate that the man, or woman, whom you had in 
toils really was an innocent party and should have been 
released.” 

“As in the present instance, I suppose?” Morrissy 
inquired. 

“Right. Miss Willoughby has been a parishioner of 
mine for several years. I’ve watched her grow up from 
a child to a young woman. She has been in my Sunday 
School classes, and now teaches one of them for me when 
she’s at home. You can see that I really know her very 
well, and I can tell you, honestly and without any qualifi¬ 
cation, that she is not only a girl utterly incapable of 
having committed such a frightful crime, no matter how 
great the provocation, but that she is also one of those 
exceptional persons, an absolutely truthful woman. I am 
as sure that she told me the truth, this morning, as I am 
that I am sitting here telling you so. I’d stake my life 


THE SIXTH SENSE 


65 


on it. Incidentally—and this isn’t an anti-climax—she’s 
the only one, with the exception of myself, that Deedon 
gives his full confidence and affection to. That means a 
lot. 

“Naturally when I read the news of the murder in this 
morning’s paper I was terrifically upset, and came down 
to see Miss Willoughby as fast as a taxi would bring me. 
She was almost incoherent with grief and the shock of 
the whole thing and couldn’t give me a very connected 
story, but it was enough. She is wholly innocent. Hence 
my letter to you. I have a confession to make about 
that, though, which will make us quits.” 

“How’s that?” 

“I first thought of coming directly to you, but then 
decided to have ‘X’ write, in the hope and even expecta¬ 
tion that it would arouse your curiosity and perhaps 
make you do exactly what you did do.” 

“I see. Yes, we’re quits. Well, I’m glad enough that 
you did, and now that you’ve agreed to work in double 
harness with the Department, at least as far as this case 
is concerned, I want to say that I’m tickled to death 
with the way everything has worked out. I haven’t any 
suggestions to make. Apparently we’ve got to start fresh 
and without a great deal to go on. It will be up to us 
to stick to our usual methods and I suppose that you’ll do 
the same. 

“ But in any event I’m satisfied to let you go your 
own gait and if you open up any leads that require the 
help of the Department, all you’ve got to do is call for 
it. I’ll merely add that you’ve ‘sold’ yourself to me, 
completely, and I’m confident that somehow or other 


66 


“ DEE DEE ” 


you are going to get at the solution of this mystery. It’s 
a hunch, if you like.” 

“Thanks for the expression of confidence. I haven’t 
any reason to share it but of course I sincerely hope that 
it will be justified, not so much for your sake as for 
—Miss Willoughby’s. She must be fully cleared in the 
eyes of the public. Of course your releasing her will 
mean a great deal, but suspicion is hard to kill. As to 
ways and means, I haven’t the slightest idea at present 
how I am likely to help you. In fact there is no earthly 
reason to believe that I shall be of any service at all in 
the case. I can’t even assist in the orthodox manner 
of a detective—that is, by donning a disguise and chas¬ 
ing a suspect, if there is any such, until I get him in a 
mental corner, so to speak. I’m simply a puppet in the 
hands of Chance, you see. 

“And now just one thing more. The newspaper 
account of the murder was typically sensational and rich 
with superfluous trimmings, but if I am to be allied with 
you in the case I’d like to get the facts and all of them. 
I know that I’ve already wasted half an hour of your 
time, and kept Anne—Miss Willoughby, waiting unnec¬ 
essarily in the next room for the past ten minutes or 
more, but-” 

“Oh, has she been brought up here already? I didn’t 
hear them—why, you can’t hear anything from there. 
Say are you trying to kid me, Doctor?” 

Dee Dee smiled faintly. “Not a bit of it. Of course I 
may be wrong, but supposing that you inquire, just out 
of curiosity.” 

Before he had spoken the last word the Inspector was 



THE SIXTH SENSE 


67 


pressing the button on his desk. The door opened and 
Duggan entered, closing it behind him. 

“Has the matron brought Miss Willoughby up, yet?” 
snapped Morrissy. 

“Yis, sor. They’re waitin’ outside there.” 

“How long have they been there?” 

“Not so long. About tin minutes, I should say.” 

“Well, of all the damned- Never mind. Keep 

’em there and tell Daley I want to see him as soon as 
possible.” 

“Yis, sor.” 


i 



CHAPTER VI 


RAMIFICATIONS 

“That does settle it!” The Inspector banged his 
heavy fist down on the desk with a thud like a pile- 
driver’s. 

“Some minutes ago I said that you’d convinced me, 
but you know how it is with a man convinced against his 
will. But now—well, I’ve seen and heard for myself 
and let me tell you that I’m glad that you’re for us, 
instead of ‘agin’ us. The divinity that shaped your ends 
did the Force a good turn when it turned you into a 
clergyman rather than a crook. I don’t know what it is 
—animal instinct, intuition, sixth sense, witchcraft or 
miraculous powers, and what’s more I don’t care. 
You’ve got it. But it gets me, just the same. How in 

blazes-? Through a thick wall and closed door, 

too!” 

“Same here. I don’t savvy myself—as I’ve said be¬ 
fore,” Dee Dee responded. “Still, ‘stone walls do not 
a prison make’—for thoughts. If a hypnotist succeeds in 
exercising his power over any one once, he can do it more 
easily a second time, you know, and the same is appar¬ 
ently true in my case. Given certain conditions and my 
mental radio tunes in quickly, and unconsciously. Just 
at present Miss Willoughby and I are probably in tele¬ 
pathic accord, that’s all, and I sensed her arrival in the 
68 



RAMIFICATIONS 


69 


next room. Deedon would have done it at least as 
quickly and probably sooner, not to mention more con¬ 
sistently. But since she is waiting, let’s complete our 
talk as quickly as possible.” 

“If you like. I’ve sent for Daley. He’s my assistant 
and handled the case last night. Likewise he’s in direct 
charge of this investigation and can give you all the dope 
better than I. My information is like Solomon Levi’s 
ulsterettes, ‘second-handed’.” 

“I see.” 

“You’ll like Dan, I think. He’s young, but he’s got 
the makings—no education to mention but a naturally 
keen mind, a sharp pair of eyes, a bloodhound’s nose for 
criminals and the stick-to-it-iveness of a bulldog. He 
occasionally gets carried away by impulse and I have to 
sit down on him, but he’s steadying into a really val¬ 
uable man. You two ought to team up well, with you 
as the board of strategy and he the field force, wearing 
the disguises—he’s still kid enough to enjoy that sort of 
sleuthing and to believe that one can’t be a real detec¬ 
tive without doing it, now and then. Incidentally, I 
think he should be let into the secret, too, later, if you’ll 
permit me to tell him. He’s Irish and will be easier to 
convince than I was—and won’t this be nuts for him, 
though!” 

“Well-” Dee Dee paused uncertainly. “All right; 

use your judgment. Only please remember that I’m nat¬ 
urally adverse to having the ripples spread very far.” 

“I know. He—here he is, now.” 

The door had opened to admit Daley, and Doctor 
Deane caught a momentary glimpse of Anne Willoughby 


70 


“DEE DEE ” 


seated in the outer room with her hands clasped in her 
lap and her head—usually held so joyously high—bowed 
like a broken flower. The girl’s countenance was not 
visible from where he sat, but he could see the smooth, 
graceful curve of her neck and one cheek, now ivory 
pale, and her crown of russet-brown hair with its playful 
golden high-lights and rich shadows. It looked to him 
more than ever attractive, in its slight disarray, for cer¬ 
tain wavy tendrils which were usually tucked neatly out of 
sight, showed in little natural clusters against her smooth 
skin. Miss Newell had not yet succeeded in joining her, 
but by her side sat a portly matron in unrelieved black. 
She was speaking encouragingly to the girl, from appear¬ 
ances, and although her face was strong to the point of 
masculinity her expression was kind. Dee Dee breathed 
easier. 

The door closed on the picture and he turned his 
regard to the newcomer. The detective was, he noticed, 
of obviously Celtic origin, with a bright, pleasant face, 
crispy auburn hair, blue eyes, a stocky body clad in a 
badly fitting blue serge suit, and the possessor of an 
amazingly large pair of hands and feet. Yet his springy 
walk was as silent as a cat’s. An inexpensive Panama 
was perched on the side of his head and he lifted it, 
respectfully, when he caught sight of the Rector’s clerical 
garb. 

“Shake hands with Doctor Deane, Assistant Rector at 
the Church of the Redeemer, Dan,” said the Inspector. 

The two men—of excellent, but totally opposite, 
types—clasped hands warmly, thereby forging the bonds 
of an enduring friendship which was to grow closer and 


RAMIFICATIONS 


71 


closer in days to come. Each liked the other on sight. 

“Proud to make your acquaintance, sor. Ain’t I seen 
you around the criminal court, sometimes?” 

“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been there,” answered 
Dee Dee, with his ready smile. 

“Cut the conversational courtesies, Dan,” Morrissy 
interrupted. “The Doctor’s in a hurry to get away, but 
before he goes he wants all the dope there is on the 
Sommes’ case.” 

Daley looked his surprise. 

“It’s all right. He’s an interested party and is going to 
help us in it.” 

“Say,” said the younger man, suddenly. “He ain’t—?” 

“Yes, he is. This is our mysterious ‘X.’ You wouldn’t 
believe it, but it’s so. I’ll explain later.” 

Daley was staring with his mouth frankly open. “Well, 
I’ll be-” he began, and stopped. 

“Be it some other time and place, then,” caustically 
remarked his chief. “Haven’t I taught you never to be 
surprised?” Dee Dee’s eyes twinkled. “Now get busy 
and answer the Doctor’s questions.” 

“Sure. But he hasn’t asked anny, yet. How much 
does he know about it, already?” 

The Rector answered. “Only what I read in the 
papers. The Star seemed to have the most detailed 
story, but of course I don’t know how accurate it was.” 

« ’Tis not bad—stripped of foliage, or verbage, or 
whativer the worrd is. Of course it makes a pretty black 
case for Miss Willoughby, but so do the facts, for thot 
matter, sor. I was jest tellin’ Miss Newell, the house- 
kaper-” 



72 


DEE DEE 


“Oh, is she here?” 

“Jest arrived from Jersey, after readin’ of the murder 
in this mornin’s paper, like yoursilf.” 

“I’m glad. Miss Willoughby was asking for her, this 
morning. ‘Newey’—as they call her—is just the one 
whom she needs at this time.” 

“I guess you’re right. Well, I was jest tellin’ her-” 

Daley proceeded to repeat what he had told the other 
visitor, only rather more in detail, and when he had con¬ 
cluded Dee Dee said, “You say that ‘the three of them’ 
had been indulging in revolver practice yesterday after¬ 
noon—Miss Willoughby, her brother Tom and who 
else?” 

“Why, her beau.” 

“Her beau?” 

“Sure. Mr. Leighton, his name is. ’Twas him that 
gave her the dangerous toy a year ago Christmas, Miss 
Newell told me. He’s been rushin’ her for some time, 
now, accordin’ to what wan of the maids told me. Well, 
annyhow, he was there, wid Mr. Tom Willoughby, who 
arrived, unexpected, yisterday afternoon. This Leighton 
chap—d’ye happen to know him?” 

Dee Dee nodded. “Yes. He is—he was —in the bond 
brokerage business as a junior associate of Mr. Sommes, 
and an intimate visitor at the house. But I didn’t 
know—at least I hadn’t realized—that Miss Wil¬ 
loughby-” 

“Oh, I guess thot she’s swate on him, from all reports. 
But annyway he was there, lavin’ about six o’clock and 
cornin’ back agin in the evenin’ to take the two of thim 
to the theayter in his car. He brought thim back in it, 




RAMIFICATIONS 


73 


stayed a half hour, maybe, and thin left—and left the 
city for a fortnight’s fishin’ trip, accordin’ to a report 
I’ve got from the office. Of course we’re anxious to 
locate him and git his story, but the same goes even more 
so as to brother Tom. There’s no rayson, yet, to sus¬ 
pect him of bein’ implicated—like there is his sister—but 
’tis pretty certain thot there was funny business goin’ on 
at the Sommes’ risidence before and after the theayter 
party, and thot he was mixed up in it.” 

“Just what do you mean by that, Mr. Daley?” asked 
Dee Dee. 

“Well, wan of the maids told me thot relations seemed 
to be strained around dinner time and thot a bit before 
midnight, after Miss Willoughby had retired to her room, 
and Leighton had left, Tom Willoughby wint into 
Sommes’ study and had a worrdy battle wid him. ’Twas 
Nora who told me thot—as swate-pretty a bit of a col¬ 
leen as iver came over from County Kerry, she is. She’d 
been helpin’ Miss Willoughby undress and came out of 
her bedroom jest in time to see, and hear, Mr. Tom 
burst out of the library and shout back over his shoul¬ 
der, ‘I’ll be d-d if I’ll stay in your house another 

minute, depindint on what you say is charity. It’s a lie, 
annyway. ’Tis myself thot belaves you’ve robbed the 
both of us, you cad.’ 

“Wid thot he ran down the stairs and slammed out of 
the house, and he ain’t shown up since. Sure the car¬ 
rying on there be in high society makes me glad I ain’t 
a gintleman, sometimes.” 

“Poor logic, Danny,” Morrissy remarked. “As the 
Doctor would tell you, this sort of thing only goes to 




74 


“ DEE DEE” 


prove that human nature is about the same under the 
surface, throughout the whole social scale. ‘The Colonel’s 
lady and Bridget O’Grady are sisters under the skin.’ 
Ain’t I right, Doctor Deane?” 

“You’re blanked right you’re right—as I once heard 
a chap say. At the best our social veneer is pretty thin. 
However, what can you expect? So-called civilization is 
still a child in comparison with the ages of primitive life 
which preceded it. ‘A thousand years in His sight are 
but as yesterday/ you know and climbing upward is 
always slow business.” 

“It ain’t for me to say different, but- Well, we 

policemen see too much of what goes on behind the 
scenes to be blinded by the glare and glamour thot riches 
holds. A foine show it is, entirely; a sort of perpetual 
movie picture—from the front. But true happiness is 
more like to be found in a cottage after all, I’m thinkin’.” 

“The policeman turns philosopher and gives expression 
to some highly original theories!” scoffed his Chief, grin¬ 
ning. “Better stick to your job and finish your story, 
Dan.” 

Daley appeared just a little sulky for an instant. Then 
a smile swept away the shadows and he turned back to 
the Rector, who had begun to address another question 
to him. 

“I suppose that you made a careful examination of the 
place, for, of course, you’re too thorough a workman to 
have suspended operations when you found the revolver 
which seemed to incriminate Miss Willoughby? Was 
there any other evidence-?” 

“Divvil a bit—beggin’ your Riverince’s pardon. There 



RAMIFICATIONS 


75 


wasn’t a scrap of ividence to indicate that anny struggle 
had taken place, nor annything else in the room in the 
nature of a clue. Downstairs the winders was all locked; 
so was the doors—the front wan being on a spring latch. 
’Twas Williams’ job to attind to this before goin’ to bed, 
and he swears thot he done it. Upstairs siveral of the 
winders was open, the night bein’ warrm, but they are all 
fitted wid patent screens, impossible to raise from out¬ 
side except by jimmyin’, maybe, and there was no marks 
of anny kind on the sills.” 

“The natural assumption being, I suppose, that it was 
'an inside job’ and Mr. Sommes’ slayer was either inside 
the house—one of the household—or at least some one 
who had no difficulty in entering. Of course the 
latter-” 

“Is a possibility. Yis. Anny wan wid a skeleton latch 
key might have done it, to be sure. And naturally ivery 
wan of the household is, in a sinse, under suspicion, 
though I’m bound to say thot I have no doubt of 
Williams’ innocence and as for the other servants, they’re 
all gurrls who slape two to a room and on the floor above. 
They were all aslape whin the butler woke thim, and 
can pretty certainly be counted out. That laves only 
Miss Willoughby, who’s kapin’ something back—and 
regardin’ whom I’ve got some new ividence this mornin’, 
by the way, Chief—and maybe her brother. He left the 
house all right, but it’s not impossible that he sneaked 
back, later, and let himself in wid a latch key, for ex¬ 
ample. You see, whativer the quarrel may have been 
about, both the gurrl and him was in on it, and—by St. 
Patrick, thot explains why she looked and acted like she 



76 


“ DEE DEE ” 


did whin I asked her who else might have done it. She 
suspected-” 

“I don’t believe it for a moment,” interrupted the 
Rector. “I know Tom Willoughby too well for 
that. There’s some other explanation for his absence. 
He’ll show up as soon as he learns of the tragedy. See 
if he doesn’t. And Miss Anne is wholly innocent, too. 
I’ve convinced the Inspector of that—he’ll tell you about 
it, later.” 

“And glad I’ll be to hear all thot you’ve told him. 
Whin I see her sittin’ in the nixt room I guessed thot she 
was to be released, but although I’m personally pleased, 
it’s my duty to report thot we’ve dug up some new facts 
which at least supply a possible motive, in her case. If 
you can prove thot she knows nothin’ about the murder, 
well and good, but whilst she was under suspicion it was 
up to us to find out all thot we could bearin’ on the pos¬ 
sibility of her having committed the murder, and it 
seems that Sommes’ death benefits her directly, in wan 
way.” 

“How’s that?” snapped the Inspector. 

“I made a call on the Sommes’ lawyer this mornin’, jest 
after lavin’ you. He couldn’t—or maybe wouldn’t—give 
me much information about the dead man’s affairs, but he 
did admit thot widin a week he’d drawn up a new will 
for him, lavin’ the bulk of his property to-” 

“Not Miss Willoughby!” Dee Dee cried out in a 
startled voice. 

“To her and no wan else, sor. You see-” 

“You bet I do,” Morrissy broke in. “That makes it 
bad. I don’t mean that it alters my opinion as to her inno- 





RAMIFICATIONS 


77 


cence, Doctor, but when the news leaks out it will nat¬ 
urally strengthen public opinion against her, unless we 

can- Hang! The press already has the story of a 

bitter quarrel and played it up sensationally. On top 
of that this new disclosure will be meat for them. Re¬ 
leasing her is putting a heavy responsibility on my shoul¬ 
ders, Doctor Deane.” 

“I recognize that, sir. It’s putting one on me, too. 
But this news, which couldn’t have very well been more 
unfortunate, doesn’t change the basic fact that she is 
innocent. It only makes me the more determined to get 
at the truth. As I have told the Inspector, it isn’t very 
likely that I shall be of any assistance, but I certainly 
hope that I may. And I know that it is not necessary for 
me to urge the Department to more strenuous efforts. 

“But it’s at least possible that an outsider might have 
fired the shot, isn’t it, Mr. Daley? A man in Mr. 
Sommes’ position, and business, must have made enemies 
and a man who has become crazed from brooding over 
wrongs, whether real or fancied, is likely to do any¬ 
thing, you know. Might not one have got into the house, 
somehow—perhaps got in earlier in the evening and hid¬ 
den himself?” 

“Sure, ’tis possible , though Williams swears thot no 
wan was there durin’ the evenin’ excipt those who I’ve 
mentioned. Mr. Sommes, himsilf, was the last to come 
in. Williams opened the door for him about eleven- 
thirty, made sure thot the latch was on and the door 
closed tight and thin wint to bed.” 

“But there is at least the chance that it happened. Mr. 
Sommes might conceivably have had a midnight appoint- 



78 


“DEE DEE ” 


ment with some one and himself let him in—opened the 
door for his own murderer. He was up and dressed at 
half-past one, you know. I suppose that sounds like a 
story-book explanation but you have reason to know that 
truth often is stranger than fiction, as the saying goes. 
In such an event the murderer would have had no trouble 
in escaping. He would have had plenty of time to get 
out of the library and down the stairs before Miss Wil¬ 
loughby appeared on the scene.” 

“Of course it might have been thot—’tis an ingenious 
explanation ixcept for wan thing. The murder was 
committed wid the pistol owned by Miss Willoughby. 
How came it there, unless-?” 

Dee Dee shook his head despairingly. “Oh, I suppose 
that I might think up an explanation for that, too, but it 
would very likely be far-fetched—as far-fetched as the 
true explanation is simple in all probability.” 

“The more I think of it—lavin’ Miss Willoughby out 
of consideration for the time bein’—the more it seems 
to me thot we’re after wantin’ to lay hands on her 
brother. By her own admission he was wan of thim thot 
was usin’ the revolver yesterday afternoon, and-” 

“I can’t believe that he did it, and God forbid that 
it should prove to be the case. It would just about 
kill his sister,” said Dee Dee, with grave concern mani¬ 
fest in his voice. “Tom has been rather wild at times, 

but he’s a healthy, manly boy, and murder - 1 No, 

it’s impossible. I can’t conceive of his having returned 

to the house, two hours after he left it, and- By the 

way, you are quite sure of the time when Mr. Sommes 
was shot?” 





RAMIFICATIONS 


79 


“Dead sure, for a wonder. As the paper said, Fate 
gave us a stop-watch on it, literally spakin’. He was 
carry in’ an ixtra thin model wid an open face and the 
crystal was smashed to smithereens whin he fell forward 
across the idge of the desk. We have it here. Would 
you be likin’ to take a look at it?” 

The Rector signified his assent. Inspector Morrissy 
opened the safe, took out a box holding the exhibits 
which the police had annexed, removed from it the dam¬ 
aged, costly chronometer and handed it to the visitor. 
Dee Dee took it with mingled feelings—curiosity and a 
new realization of the horror which this tragedy, within 
his own Parish and in which his own personal friends 
were involved, had inspired in him. How many times he 
had seen Mr. Sommes draw that very watch from his 
waistcoat pocket and toy with it as he talked! For a 
moment a wavering mist came before his eyes and he 
turned away toward one of the windows. Then he forced 
himself to glance at the smashed face and thin gold 
hands, mute witnesses that murder had been done. His 
casual glance became fixed and his scrutiny of the watch 
both close and increasingly eager. His back was turned 
towards the other two men and they failed to see the 
expression, first of keen interest and then dawning sur¬ 
prise, which passed over his face. Both were gone when 
hb returned the timepiece to Morrissy merely nodding his 
thanks, in a rather detached manner. For a few seconds 
he stood in puzzled thought. Then he shook his head, 
and—bringing himself back to the present—asked the 
Inspector if he would be so kind as to keep him advised 
as to any new developments. 


80 


“ DEE DEE” 


He added, “Of course I’ll do the same for you, if I 
should happen on anything of interest. And if I’m to 
be away from the house for any length of time I’ll leave 
word where I may be reached by telephone. Mother 
knows that I am deeply interested in this matter, natu¬ 
rally, although not to what an extent. There’s one thing, 
though. If, for any reason, you should have occasion to 
call me when I am with my superior, Dr. Barrows, 
please don’t make the mistake of saying, ‘Police Depart¬ 
ment calling Doctor Deane.’ 

“I don’t enjoy being a party to even a harmless decep¬ 
tion, but the good doctor is—well, he would be inexpres¬ 
sibly shocked and horrified if he were to know what you 
know about me, or even that I were personally mixed up 
in this case. He is horribly upset already. In his 
estimation, the tragedy is at least twice as tragic by 
reason of having occurred in the family of one of our 
wealthiest parishioners. He couldn’t very well take 
objection to my having visited those in prison and the 
fatherless in their affliction, but I imagine that he would 
express his doubts about my discretion in having done 
so. For the time being, at least, I see no particular rea¬ 
son why his orderly thought processes should be further 
upset.” 

“I get you—if you’ll excuse the expression,” Morrissy 
answered. “We won’t know you in the matter at all— 
unless you should help us in solving the case, when-” 

“Then, least of all. You are welcome to all the credit 
and probably will be the ones to earn it, anyway. It’s 
the last thing I want.” 

“Well, just as you say. But- 





RAMIFICATIONS 


81 


“No. I’m in earnest, and you know why. The only 
thing that I do want, at the moment, is to get Miss Wil¬ 
loughby home as soon as possible. Mother is expecting 
her. I took a chance and told her that I had an idea 
you would not hold her long. It seems to me that under 
present conditions she shouldn’t return to her own home 
and there seems to be no other proper place for her to go, 
since none of her intimates have apparently had the 
courage to affirm their belief in her innocence and hasten 
to help her. Sometimes I can’t understand people. It’s 
impossible that her friends should actually believe her 
guilty, but society women are frightfully afraid of doing 
something outre, it would seem.” 

“Human nature,” Morrissy agreed. “In any event 
your idea is a good one, I should think—that is, if your 
mother-” 

“Oh, they’re the best of friends—she loves Anne, 
dearly.” 

“Good. And maybe after the shock has worn off a 
little the girl will be willing to confide in one of you. It 
might give us a possible clue, you know.” 

“Perhaps, though I doubt it. For my own part I want 
to get into my den and shut myself up with my thoughts 
—assuming that I can succeed in evolving any, which 
doesn’t seem any too likely, at present. If I should hap¬ 
pen to have an idea with the possibility of some meat in 
it would you be willing to help me test it out, Mr. 
Daley?” 

“Would I? Jest wouldn’t I, though! I ain’t yet heard 
what your method of procedure is, but whin anny man 
—especially an amachure—can step in and show us 



82 


“ DEE DEE 


professionals up the way you’ve done, half a dozen 
times—well, sure I’d like to sit at his feet for a while 
and get some education.” 

“You’re in for a mighty disillusionment, as you’ll find 
when the Inspector tells you the truth about me,” smiled 
Dee Dee, as he took the hand which the other impul¬ 
sively extended, and the Inspector remarked: 

“ ‘Disillusionment,’ my eye! He’s going to be in for 
a first-class astonishment. I suppose that we might as 
well have Miss Willoughby in here, now.” 

“Yes, please. But one more suggestion first, though— 
I’ve had an idea, already. Can the fact that she has 
been released be kept a secret for a day or two, without 
any actual untruths being necessitated? I, being a min¬ 
ister, couldn’t countenance the telling of a lie, you 
know,” he added with a smile. “I don’t know that I 
have anything really in mind, but perhaps the belief that 
the police were satisfied that they’ve arrested the right 
party might make the real murderer relax his guard. Or 
the knowledge that the wrong one is in the toils might 
possibly cause the right one’s conscience to get busy. 
Of course some people will have to be advised—her law¬ 
yers—but-” 

“Sure. Something might come of it, and I’m willing, 
since you make the suggestion. It’ll be up to you to keep 
her out of sight, of course. Dan, telephone for a taxi— 
unless you prefer that we send both of you home in the 
hurry-up wagon?” 

“Hardly.” 

“Thought not. We can smuggle you out the back 
way. And now for the girl.” 



CHAPTER VII 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 

While his assistant was telephoning, the Inspector 
stepped to the door of the outer office and spoke to the 
matron. She called to her charge, who was sitting with 
Miss Newell’s arm around her comfortingly, and the girl 
stood up, cast a final appealing glance at her old nurse 
and then bravely faced the door. The quickened rise 
and fall of her young bosom and the faint quivering of 
the muscles in her bare throat betrayed the fact that her 
heart was beating painfully fast. Even though she now 
knew that her temporary release was impending, the 
ordeal of again facing the Police Inspector taxed her self- 
control. In some respects the prospect had been worse in 
anticipation, after the hours of empty waiting, than her 
actual arrest had been, coming—as it had—at a moment 
when her feelings and faculties were numbed by the 
shock which she had sustained. 

As she crossed the threshold and the door closed 
behind her, her eyes fell, momentarily. But when she 
summoned up courage to raise them—violet-blue and 
fringed with golden-tipped dark lashes which appeared 
in striking contrast to the present pallor of her cheeks— 
and the first person upon whom they fell was Dee Dee, 
her expression underwent a swift and marked change. 
There was a flash of relief and gladness; then a sudden 
rush of tears, which did not fall, suffused her eyes. 

83 


84 


“DEE DEE ” 


The Rector stepped toward her, both hands encourag¬ 
ingly outstretched. Instead of clasping them, however, 
she ran straight to him, almost like a hurt child, placing 
her own shapely hands on his shoulders and pressed her 
forehead against his black-clothed breast. 

With a sob breaking the trembling rush of her words, 
she cried, “Oh, I’m so—so glad that you’re here, Doctor 
Deane.” 

Dee Dee patted her back with awkward tenderness 
and Daley covered an Irish grin with four great fingers. 
He would have known better what to do with his arms 
in a case like that, he thought. 

Morrissy put an end to the little tableau by saying, in 
a voice somewhat gruff but not unkind, “You have 
reason enough to be glad, Miss Willoughby. You may 
not know it, but Doctor Deane is the one responsible for 
our releasing you, for the time being. I may as well tell 
you, frankly, that you are being transferred into his cus¬ 
tody, in a sense. I shall hold him strictly responsible for 
you in case we need you again—as we doubtless shall, at 
least as a witness. However, I’m now inclined to believe 
that you know no more about the tragic death of your 
guardian than you have told us—at least that you have 
no actual knowledge regarding it. And I’m sorry that 
we found it necessary to detain you at all, but we have 
to do a good many disagreeable things in the course of 
duty. You have my sympathy in—in your—affliction.” 

“Thank you. I—understand, and of course I don’t 
blame the—the police. It’s—it’s all unbelievable to me, 
still. I don’t care about what happened to—to me. All 
that I think about is—Uncle Sewell. And I want you 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


85 


to find and punish the one who shot him.” Anne’s 
hands suddenly clenched so tightly that the knuckles 
grew bloodless. 

“We’ll do our best, won’t we, Doctor Deane? The 
Doctor is, of course, greatly interested in this ugly affair 
on your account, Miss Willoughby.” The Inspector 
hastened to add the afterthought to explain his unconsid¬ 
ered statement in which he had implicated the Rector. 

Anne turned upon the latter a look of deep and sin¬ 
cere gratitude, and held out her hand to him. “I can 
never tell you how much I appreciate what you have 
done—all that you are doing, for me,” she said, softly. 

He started to answer, but was glad to have Morrissy 
save him the necessity by interrupting with, “I hope 
that your gratitude will cause you to confide in him, Miss 
Willoughby. As a friend I would advise you to talk to 
him as frankly as you would to your lawyer—or father 
confessor. Probably you can’t tell him anything which 
will have any bearing on what happened last night—” 
Oh, canny Morrissy! “—but it will ease your own mind 
if you’ll only bring yourself to talk freely with some one 
whom you can trust. Try it, Miss Willoughby.” The 
Inspector spoke paternally and patted the girl’s arm in a 
fatherly manner. 

“Thank you. I—I’ll try to—to follow your sugges¬ 
tion,” she answered, swallowing with difficulty. 

The taxicab was announced, and Dee Dee said, gently, 
“Now I am going to take you home to my mother, Anne. 
She will know what the best thing for you is.” 

“Oh, does she want me—in spite of-?” Anne was 

near the breaking point, which unexpected kindness 


86 


“ DEE DEE” 


often causes one to overstep, and the Rector imparted an 
almost boisterous geniality to his words as he answered, 

“Why, of course she does. Why on earth shouldn’t 
she? They tell me that Miss Newell is here, and we’ll 
take her along, too. I’m sure that her presence will be 
welcome to you.” 

“Oh, I do want her—if she can come. Newey—she’s 
been almost the only mother I ever had, you know.” 

“Yes. To be sure.” 

Miss Newell, still clasping her hands nervously, was 
brought into the inner office and the Rector greeted her 
warmly. For her part she became practically speechless 
with gratitude when the plan was explained to her, for 
she felt—and said, haltingly—that she was helpless to 
think out any plan for Anne’s immediate future herself. 
It was finally arranged between the three—the officials 
having bidden them a friendly good-by and returned 
to their long interrupted labors—that Miss Newell 
should go in another taxi to their old home and, having 
packed a suitcase or two with such things as they would 
need immediately, join them at the Deanes’ modest 
house. She left, as she had arrived, by the main en¬ 
trance, and Dee Dee and his charge were escorted by 
Duggan down a back way to the cab which was waiting 
in the yard. They entered it, apparently unseen, and 
drove away. 

Doctor Deane’s home, where he dwelt with his mother, 
one housemaid and the dog, was a rather small but 
attractive and comfortable semi-detached villa in a part 
of the city where urb and suburbs joined friendly hands. 
The imposing rectory where Doctor Burroughs lived was 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


87 


not far distant, and the Sommes’ mansion only half a 
mile away, set amid magnificent lawns and gardens. 

It was some three miles out and the trip thither was 
made mostly in silence, for the minds of the man and 
the maid, alike, were preoccupied with painful thoughts. 
The wells of speech seemed suddenly to have run dry. 

The hour was now mid-afternoon of a nearly perfect 
day in the last of June—surely such a day should have 
made even the suggestion of tragedy impossible. Yet 
Tragedy rode with them under the sky of exquisite ceru¬ 
lean, from which the sun of full springtide was prod¬ 
igally pouring down gold into the city’s streets—a gold 
more precious to man than any ever dug from the earth 
and minted into coin. Thousands were out-of-doors 
gathering it, too, since the air was appealingly warm 
without being uncomfortably hot. But the cheerful sun¬ 
shine did not penetrate into the motor cab, for Dee 
Dee had taken particular pains to lower the shades 
almost completely. He wished to prevent the possibility 
of the girl being recognized from the sidewalk or some 
acquaintance in a passing automobile. 

Anne understood and was silently grateful for his 
consideration. She also welcomed the obscurity for 
another reason. 

It the better enabled her to conceal her emotions. 
She was naturally high-spirited and courageous, typical 
of the highest type of young American womanhood, but 
it was inevitable that the strain of the preceding twelve 
hours should have badly shaken her self-control. To be 
sure she was again free—a fact which brought a feeling 
of immense relief—but now the reaction from the dull 


88 


“DEE DEE ” 


horror of her confinement, after the shock of the 
tragedy, had set in, and she could not wholly repress 
the impulse to let herself go—to break down completely 
and cry and cry. Anne made a valiant effort to check 
the tears which would well up in her tired eyes and run 
down her cheeks, temporarily robbed of the healthy glow 
that an athletic life customarily imparted to them, but 
she tried in vain. She hoped, however, that in the dim 
light her companion would not see them. 

Of course he did. But he intuitively read her thoughts 
and was sympathetically silent, keeping his head averted 
after one swift glance as he took his seat beside her. It 
was unnecessary for him to look at her face in order to 
visualize it—at least as it had been a few days previous. 
But it was not quite as easy for him to see, in his mind’s 
eye, the new expression which it had recently acquired 
and which—he felt—would never be wholly effaced. 

In spite of what Johnson had written in the Star , Anne 
Willoughby was not really beautiful, but her body was 
perfect; tall for a girl, straight yet full of graceful con¬ 
tours, and her countenance had a sweet, youthful charm 
particularly its own, not a little of which lay in the 
slight irregularities which made her features attractively 
piquant. And her hair and eyes were glorious, as was 
the wonderful freshness and harmonious coloring which 
a healthy, out-of-door life had given her. 

But Dee Dee realized that now something—a certain 
youthful simplicity which had contrasted so appealingly 
with the look of sophistication in the faces of most mod¬ 
ern city girls—had been stolen from it, overnight, to be 
replaced with an unsuspected depth, the offspring of suf- 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


89 


fering. A new womanliness was taking the place of her 
former look of almost childlike eagerness. With the 
American city girl of today, twenty-one may be either 
youth or maturity. In a single step, Anne had crossed 
the boundary between the two, and—knowing that care¬ 
free girlhood once lost could never be recovered—the 
man felt his heart aching for her. Of course the 
moment’s black cloud of pain and horror would pass 
away in time, but the shadow would linger. Life could 
never be quite the same for her again, no matter how 
bountiful. 

Both were thus engaged in their own thoughts when 
the cab gave a sudden lurch and swerved violently, as 
the driver avoided a threatened collision by the prover¬ 
bial hair’s breadth. Anne was flung sharply against her 
companion and her hand struck his. She instinctively 
clutched it. The driver swore feelingly at the ven¬ 
turesome pedestrian who had taken a chance, and Dee 
Dee spoke soothingly to the startled girl beside him. But 
when he would have withdrawn his hand from her clasp 
she tightened it, slightly, again in an almost childlike 
manner, and for the rest of the trip he held it close, 
although the touch of her firm, warm palm pressed 
against his own was like fire. The blood seemed to 
pound through his veins and his heartbeats quickened 
with a sense of combined ecstasy and pain. 

For David Deane no longer attempted to conceal from 
himself the knowledge that he loved this girl—that his 
feelings were not now a mere warm affection, but some¬ 
thing close to a passion which threatened to overturn his 
well-ordered life completely. The realization shocked 


90 


“DEE DEE ” 


him. He had reached the age of thirty-three without 
ever having experienced a love-affair more serious than 
a few cub flirtations during college days. His strenuous 
participation in sports, the war and the ministry had, in 
succession supplied alike an outlet for his emotions, and 
taught him self-control bordering on self-repression. 

Even though for five years past he had lived in a 
great city and been in daily contact with its tumultuous, 
striving life, by reason of his active work in the mission, 
he had attained to a quiet, bachelor existence, in which 
his present household satisfied every need and desire. 
And into such a life Anne had fitted simply and nat¬ 
urally, first as a casual child acquaintance, then a 
young friend and more lately a valued companion and 
co-worker when she was at home. She was a frank and 
lovable girl who had early stirred his affection, and as 
she developed towards womanhood he had grown to 
realize that there were blended in her makeup, in re¬ 
markably happy proportions, the elements which com¬ 
posed his own life—a sound mind in a sound, athletic 
body, with a rational amount of the spiritual to round 
out the trinity. 

He was more than ten years her senior, but his body 
was still young, his heart still boyish, and it was natural 
that they should have become close friends and fre¬ 
quently together—especially in the work of the parish 
and church, but not infrequently in social activities, on 
the tennis court and golf links, as well. 

Then, almost in an instant, his steadily increasing 
affection for her had been transformed into an all- 
embracing love, born, perhaps, of pity—awakened by the 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


91 


news of her arrest for an incredible crime. It had come 
upon him like an engulfing flood which had swept away 
before it every opposing consideration, for the moment. 
For the moment only, however. With the almost fierce 
joy of his realization came an agonizing pain—the knowl¬ 
edge that she was suffering. Now the first joy had been 
blunted by a calmer consideration of many things, but 
the pain still remained, more on his own account than 
hers, if the truth be known. And he felt that it must 
always be his portion. 

The very circumstances out of which his love had been 
born had doomed it to a hopeless life. 

There came an instant, sitting with Anne in the taxi¬ 
cab and holding her hand, when Dee Dee felt an almost 
irresistible impulse to laugh out loud, bitterly. He 
checked it barely in time. He could not possibly have 
explained it to the girl and how insanely out of place it 
would have sounded! Still there was a painful droll¬ 
ness in the thought which had sprung into his mind and 
induced laughter there. 

How often had he read detective stories in which 
the young hero falls in love with the charming girl whose 
guardian has been mysteriously murdered, leaving her 
his heiress and in love with some one else—perhaps the 
villain—temporarily? And laughed at the plot as child¬ 
ishly trite: “old stuff.” He had a fertile imagination 
and had not infrequently promised himself that in after 
years, when he was ready to retire from the active min¬ 
istry, he would himself write books, but certainly not 
anything so trivial and commonplace as that I 

And now—now, by a malicious prank of Fate—the 


92 


“ DEE DEE ” 


very thing had come to pass in everyday life. His life! 
There had been nothing romantic or ingenious about the 
murder. Even though the perpetrator had not yet been 
discovered there was nothing really mysterious about it. 
It was commonplace, probably sordid. Well, truth in life 
might be stranger than fiction, but death was generally 
commonplace, after all. In imagination we may die a 
thousand deaths, but in fact only one, and the manner 
thereof seldom rises to the heights, either of heroism or 
horror. 

The other features of the fiction romances, the other 
obstacles in the path of the protagonist, at which he had 
scoffed, all were present in his case as well—not the trite 
inventions of a hack writer’s brain, but most unpleasant 
realities. It was he who was called upon to face them, 
and what a tremendous difference it made! Moreover 
he realized, bitterly, that the fiction writers had not been 
far wrong in causing their heroes to suffer the pangs of 
what he had called, to himself, mock heroism. The bar¬ 
rier which had been raised between him and his heart’s 
one desire were real enough, in all conscience; only the 
inevitable “happy ending” seemed too nebulous for con¬ 
sideration. This was not fiction, unfortunately. Sup¬ 
posing that it should be granted to him successfully to 
play out the role of hero?—and goodness knew that he 
was one in no respect. Supposing the amateur detective 
should succeed where the professionals failed, discover 
the identity of the murderer of Sewell Sommes and so 
clear Anne’s name of the stigma which chance, and pub¬ 
lic opinion, had placed upon it? The satisfaction of 
having served her would be his, but nothing more. 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


93 


Like the heroines in certain novels, she would now be 
sole heiress to her guardian’s wealth—and Sommes was 
reported to be a millionaire at least! And he was, by 
comparison, poor—the church mouse. If he should seek 
her hand in marriage, even assuming that she might come 
to care for him, how the ever-suspicious world of society 
would smirk and smile! In its eyes he would be noth¬ 
ing less than a fortune-hunter—a name abhorrent to any 
man with an Anglo-Saxon sense of honor. It wouldn’t 
be true, of course, but pride would rebel against the 
insinuation and raise the barrier. Besides pride would 
not permit him to take advantage of gratitude. Oh, yes, 
such obstacles were real ones, after all. 

And finally, Daley’s careless words had raised another 
and even more prohibitive barrier against his love for 
Anne. Daniel Leighton was her acknowledged suitor and 
—from the servants’ gossip—a favored one. It was pos¬ 
sible. Indeed, it was at least probable. Why hadn’t he 
realized the fact long ago? Because he had had no 
special reason to give the matter any thought, of course. 
Yet it was natural enough. Suddenly little circum¬ 
stances which had meant nothing to him at the time of 
their happening grew significant and momentous. 

He had never liked Leighton. To be sure he had never 
actually disliked him, but the man had provoked a sense 
of irritation in his mind more than once; his subconscious 
self had realized that an antipathy existed between them 
when he had not been consciously aware of it. Leighton 
was clever, polished, well-to-do, popular, good-looking, 
but he lacked something which carried an appeal for 
men. Not so with women, however. And, now that 


94 


“DEE DEE ” 


Dee Dee thought upon it, Anne certainly liked him. It 
was not strange. He was of her set, a constant visitor at 
the house and studiously agreeable. Besides he had 
made almost a chum of her brother Tom, in spite of the 
disparity in their ages. The younger man obviously 
imitated him and held him in flatteringly high regard. 
There was nothing strange about his being in love with 
Anne—who could help it? There was no real reason 
why she should not reciprocate the feeling. There was 
no reason to doubt that she did. One after another, 
memoried incidents came to him which gave color to this 
belief. She and Leighton were almost constantly to¬ 
gether; at dances he was her partner more often than 
any other; he had given her presents—the revolver- 

There is no wonder that Dee Dee felt like laughing, 
mirthlessly. Here were all the elements of an old-fash¬ 
ioned melodrama, and he was personally involved in it. 
There was only one feature of the situation which was 
out of the ordinary, and that merely made matters 
worse, as far as he was concerned. He was not a young, 
adventurous hero. He was now an unheroic minister, 
no longer very youthful—one of a class whose members 
are, because of their particular profession, more than 
commonly bound to pursue the highest possible standard 
of ethics, or become Pariahs. 

If the Fates were silently chuckling who could blame 
them? 

Dee Dee metaphorically shook his mind free of these 
hopeless personal considerations and tried to concentrate 
his thoughts in an impersonal manner on the other 


DEE DEE AND ANNE 


95 


aspects of the case in which he had become so deeply 
involved. Tom-! 

How awful it would be if it should prove that Anne’s 
own twin brother had killed their joint guardian in a fit 
of temporary madness, bred of drink and that mysterious 
quarrel! Yet why, otherwise, had he stormed out of the 
house at midnight, breathing threats, the way he had 
done? And why was there no word from him, even now, 
after more than six hours had passed since the news of 
his sister’s arrest in connection with the crime had been 
published abroad? Where was Tom Willoughby? 

Where, too, was Daniel Leighton, the close business 
associate of the murdered man and lover of the girl 
who had been accused of killing him? 



CHAPTER VIII 


DEEDON 

When Dee Dee and Anne arrived at the Deane home, 
the Rector’s mother was waiting to welcome them in the 
doorway. 

But she was not the first member of the household to 
greet the girl. As soon as they stepped out of the taxi¬ 
cab a magnificent, full-grown police dog, with every mark 
of the thoroughbred in his sinewy body, handsome head 
and intelligent eyes, tore down the front steps and walk 
in space-devouring bounds. 

Under ordinary conditions he would have politely 
ignored the Rector’s companion and addressed his wel¬ 
come strictly to his master. But this time the converse 
was almost true. He cast a smiling glance at Dee Dee 
and licked his hand in passing, but an instant later he 
had reared up on his hind legs in front of the girl and 
placed his forepaws on her shoulders, which brought his 
head on a level with hers. He was so heavy that Anne 
was forced backward a step and might even have been 
over-balanced completely but for the man’s quickly sup¬ 
porting arm at her waist. 

Although momentarily startled she was not afraid, for 
they were old friends, and immediately her arms were 
around the dog’s barrel-like body and her face was 
pressed against his thick ruff. “Oh, Deedon, you great 
96 


DEEDON 


97 


darling!” she cried in a muffled voice, which had choked 
up at the unexpectedness of the welcome. And when 
Mrs. Deane took her in a motherly embrace, just inside 
the hall, Anne’s control gave way completely for a 
moment and her form was shaken with deep sobs. The 
Rector stood miserably by. 

“There, there, dear,” soothed Mrs. Deane. “Every¬ 
thing is going to be better in just a little while. You’re 
all tired out, poor child. We won’t even talk, now. 
There’s a quiet, dainty little room waiting for you 
upstairs, with all the shades drawn and the bed turned 
down all ready to welcome your weary body. And there 
you’re going this minute, to stay until dinner time. 
Mary will take you up and help you undress, but I’ll be 
there in just a few minutes, myself. I’m going to bring 
you something nice to drink and then hold your hand 
until you go to sleep, dear.” 

Anne tried to express her gratitude but sobs choked 
her voice and she was glad to be led, blindly, upstairs by 
the sympathetic maid. 

Mrs. Deane followed her son into his study, took his 
face between her loving hands, drew his head down and 
kissed him, before she uttered the interrogation, “Well, 
my boy?” 

“No real news, Mother,” he responded, and then in 
a few comprehensive sentences outlined all that he had 
learned regarding the facts of the case. “You see,” he 
added, “there is mighty little to go on, assuming that 
Anne is eliminated—as of course she is, now. Up to the 
present it might serve as the plot for a story entitled, ‘No 
Clue,’ I forgot to tell you that the detective said that 


98 


“ DEE DEE” 


there are so many jumbled finger marks on the handle of 
the revolver that they can’t get any help from that 
source. The case is probably the more difficult because 
it’s so simple. Somebody killed Mr. Sommes and almost 
certainly used a revolver belonging to Anne, which had 
been left lying around the house somewhere. Then he 
simply disappeared, which was easy enough to do. It 
was an hour of the night when the likelihood of his being 
seen by any one outside was extremely slim. Mystery 
yarns, full of conflicting clues and complexities, sus¬ 
picious characters, strange deaths, code messages, and all 
that sort of bunk, make fascinating reading, but are in 
fact a whole lot easier to solve than these commonplace 
murders. They often take time and infinite patience— 
or else luck. What’s really worrying me, now, is that 
this one may be cleared up immediately.” 

“What do you mean? Surely not that you’re afraid 
Tom-?” 

“Yes. I don’t mean that I’m actually afraid, but 
there’s just the possibility of his having gone temporarily 
crazy—that mysterious quarrel, you know. Still, I can’t 

believe that he did it, unless- He’s acquired the 

popular habit of breaking the Eighteenth Amendment, 
I’m afraid, and present-day moonshine is to blame for 
much madness. If it should be true, it would about kill 
Anne. Oh, well, there’s no sense in worrying over the 
unlikely, I suppose. I can’t believe even the possibility 
of such an awful thing.” 

“Nor I, David. I’ve always had a peculiar fondness 
for smiling, curly-headed, mischief-loving lads, like Tom 
Willoughby, and I’ve found that they usually make the 




DEEDON 


99 


best and steadiest of citizens after they’ve outgrown the 
colt age, no matter how wild they may have been dur¬ 
ing it. They’re not bad, or vicious.” 

“Mother! You praise his type when you know that 
my hair hasn’t even the suggestion of a curl! ” exclaimed 
Dee Dee in mock ruefulness, and Mrs. Deane smiled with 
mother-love as she rumpled it tenderly. Immediately 
serious again, the man continued, “I hope that when 
Anne has rested a bit she’ll be willing to tell one of us 
something about the matter which may possibly be the 
missing link—I mean that unhappy quarrel in the 
Sommes’ household. Even though the police agree that 
she’s probably ignorant of anything connected with the 
murder, as well as innocent herself, they won’t be sat¬ 
isfied until they know what it is that she is keeping 
back, and why. You see, the circumstantial evidence 
was so strong—what a hell it can create, sometimes! 
No, I’m not swearing, Mother. I’m speaking literally. 
It’s diabolical in this case, the way suspicion has been 
cast on her—black suspicion. But I feel like swearing, 
army fashion, when I think of what has happened in the 
life of that innocent girl and remember that with the 
exception of her old nurse and her legal advisors, not one 
of her host of so-called friends has yet affirmed their 
belief in her innocence and hurried to comfort her in 
Prison—not even those closest to her.” The Rector’s 
jaw set in the old fighting manner and he clenched his 
fists. 

“There is one other exception, my dear,” corrected his 
mother. “But we shouldn’t judge too hastily or harshly. 
Perhaps some did, and weren’t allowed to see her. And 


100 


“ DEE DEE ” 


after all it is only a few hours since the news appeared 
in the papers. And of course it has been a terrible, a 
paralyzing, shock to every one. A tragedy like this stuns 
people. You know that the Press made it appear as 
though there was practically no question as to her guilt. 

There should be a law-” 

“There is a law in English-speaking countries that a 
person is innocent until proved guilty, only Society pays 
no more respect to it than—than to the Volstead Act. 
The Press is merely a mirror to public opinion. ‘Isn’t 
it awful’—meaning ‘isn’t it delightfully sensational’—is 
one of the most popular phrases in society’s book. I’d 

like to preach a sermon-” 

“Some time, perhaps, but not now, David. It isn’t 
like you to be so bitter, my boy.” 

“Maybe not, but there are times when righteous indig¬ 
nation is a virtue. When I think that Anne -” 

“I know. What an awful ordeal the child has had to 
undergo during the past twelve hours! It’s a crying 
shame—a girl as sweet, lovable and gently reared as she, 
to be involved in such a tragedy.” 

“It’s damnable. Oh, it is easy enough to preach 
complaisant acceptance of trials and tribulations on the 
ground that they are sent us in furtherance of an inscru¬ 
table purpose—to declare that in the Master Plan every¬ 
thing is meant, and is for the best in the long run. It 
may be so, but happenings like this shake the faith a 
little, Mother.” 

“I know how it is, dear. I’ve had my own troubles. 
But they are character tests. Human suffering is a part 
of the great plan, apparently. Of course we can’t hope 





DEEDON 


101 


to understand the reason—now we see as through a glass, 
darkly-” 

The Rector smiled faintly. “Hmm. That seems to 
have a reminiscent sound. When did I preach that ser¬ 
mon last? Well, I’ll try to regain a little religious 
philosophicalness. Of course you’re right enough. I 
hope that I shouldn’t have flown off the handle as I have 

if it had only happened to myself. But Anne -” He 

checked himself, suddenly. 

For her part, Mrs. Deane also checked a comment 
which had sprung to her lips, born of his frequent empha¬ 
sized repetition of the girl’s given name. In a moment 
she understood what it portended and the understanding 
came as a shock. Her son! 

“It will all pass, in time, and our Anne will forget—at 
least the memory of it will be dulled,” she said softly. 

“Oh, I suppose so—it generally happens, thank God. 
But at the moment her life is being torn up by the roots 
and it must be agonizing. And to think that there is no 
one to whom she can turn for comfort except us and 
Miss Newell—she’s coming here, by the way. No near 
relation, I mean, except Tom, and he-” 

“We’re not going to think of that , now. I’m glad that 
Miss Newell is coming, but I must go to our guest this 
minute. I’m planning to give her something harmless 
and soothing that will make her sleep and shall stay in 
the room with her, until she has quieted down. Oh, if 
there were only some other way in which we could help to 
lift the cloud from her. I’m afraid that I haven’t over¬ 
much faith in the police, somehow. That’s probably a silly 
remark, for of course they do their best, but the popular 




102 


“ DEE DEE” 


habit of regarding them rather scornfully is contagious, I 
guess. One reads of so many murders and other mys¬ 
teries which are never cleared up; of so many criminals 
who are never caught and brought to justice. Don’t you 
think that her attorneys should engage the services of 
some detective bureau, too, so that no stone shall be left 
unturned, David?” 

The Rector replied, evasively. “Perhaps. But I be¬ 
lieve that there is a private detective, of sorts, involved 
in the case already. Of course I don’t know that he’ll 
be able to accomplish anything more than the police, 
themselves, would. However, I mean to talk personally 
with Mr. Sommes’ lawyers this afternoon, anyway. Bob 
Neville is a member of that firm, you know, and he may 
have some suggestions to make. 

“But now you run along to Anne, dear. I want to 
smoke my pipe in solitude and see if there are any ideas 
in it. Perhaps I’ll turn Sherlock Holmes, myself.” 

For some time after his mother’s departure, Dee Dee 
sat shut in his study, with eyes closed and brow corru¬ 
gated, while a steady stream of gray-blue smoke drifted 
ceilingwards from his old brier. His face was serious 
and its expression far from happy. Finally he shook his 
head with a movement of futility and, having secured his 
hat and stick, left the house. 

During the two hours which followed, the Reverend 
Doctor Deane made three calls of varying length at 
widely varying places. One—a fairly lengthy stay—was 
with his former “buddy,” now a prospering lawyer 
associated with an old firm of counsellors. The second, 
not quite so long, was at the office of the city’s medical 


DEEDON 


103 


examiner. The third was a very brief stop at the office 
of the Weather Bureau. 

He returned to the house in time for a six-thirty din¬ 
ner and his mother met him as he entered. “Miss 
Newell came,” she said. “I’m so glad that she is here. 
Although she had seen Anne only a few hours ago their 
meeting was so pathetic that I went out of the room and 
had a good cry on my own account. She certainly wor¬ 
ships the child.” 

“How is Anne feeling, now?” Dee Dee asked. 

“Ever so much better. She has brightened up won¬ 
derfully. Oh, for the power of youth to ‘come back’!” 

It was not wholly youth, on Anne’s part, however. 
The sleep had rested and refreshed her, but it had not 
banished the ugly image of recent events from her mind. 
It had taken will power to smile, even wanly, and talk 
of other things, but she had deliberately made up her 
mind that she was not going to act the part of a tragic 
heroine in the mid-Victorian style of romance, and make 
every one else sharers in her misery. 

She came downstairs with Miss Newell’s mothering 
arm about her, when the gong rang, and greeted the 
Rector in a somewhat restrained manner but with a sim¬ 
plicity which warmed his heart. For just a moment her 
resolve faltered—when she tried to speak her overwhelm¬ 
ing gratitude for what he and his mother had done. Then 
her eyes filled with unbidden tears and the smile trem¬ 
bled away and gave place to a look so pathetically 
sweet that it was like a knife thrust to the man’s soul. 

Miss Newell requested permission to eat with Mary in 
the kitchen and finally the other three went alone to the 


104 


“DEE DEE 


dinner table, daintily laid and softly lighted, for the 
shades had been drawn and candles supplied a mild, 
friendly illumination for the meal. 

It was a period of calm interlude, for all of them real¬ 
ized the desirability of keeping their thoughts and con¬ 
versation as far as possible removed from the somber 
topic which filled the background of their minds. They 
talked of everything else, first one and then another 
starting a new subject as soon as a pause in the conver¬ 
sation seemed impending. 

Dee Dee was naturally not a great social talker, but 
he could be extremely interesting when he set out to be 
and tonight he kept the intercourse of ideas going and 
guided them in safe channels with the skill of an accom¬ 
plished diplomat. He tried, too, to make the conversa¬ 
tion impersonal, but, by reading between the unspoken 
lines, Anne was able to gain a clearer insight into his life 
and character than she had ever had before. The atti¬ 
tude of mother towards her son, and son towards his 
mother was enlightening and both succeeded in making 
the forlorn girl feel surprisingly at ease and like one of 
the family. 

But she might not have been quite so soothed, tempo¬ 
rarily, if she had possessed the power of reading the Rec¬ 
tor’s thoughts. Mrs. Deane was a little hard of hearing, 
and always sat beside, rather than opposite, her son at 
table. This arrangement placed Anne at the foot of the 
board facing him, and many times during the meal he 
caught himself regarding her with the feeling that the 
place should be hers always, and wishing with all his 
heart that it might be. 


DEEDON 


105 


Random topics eventually gave place to the subject of 
Deedon’s history and abilities, for the dog had estab¬ 
lished himself about as close as he could get to Anne, and 
from time to time lifted his splendid head and laid it 
on her knees. It was an act of affection, not a petition 
for food—his training was too good for that. 

Then it was that the girl first heard the story of how 
he acquired his peculiar name, the Rector telling it in 
response to her inquiry. 

“I bought him when he was a puppy about four 
months old from a poilu,” said Dee Dee. “The French¬ 
man swore that the dog had been born in the trenches 
and that he had raised him, himself. I have my doubts 
on that point, though. Fanciers tell me that he is a 
thoroughbred, and he never would answer to the name 
that the soldier gave him—‘Pierre’—or, for that matter, 
to any other that Bob Neville and I tried on him. He 
paid absolutely no attention to them, but always came 
on the run, head up and tail wagging, when Bob 
addressed me by my nickname, ‘Dee Dee.’ Of course 
we regarded it as queer, and I was rather flattered 
until I got a clue to the answer in conversation with a 
a French officer, one day. 

“In the course of the talk, which was in French, he 
happened to say, ‘Dites done’ —that’s an idiomatic ex¬ 
pression, like our ‘listen,’ or ‘look here’—as you probably 
know. Well, the pup instantly pricked up his ears and 
ran to him. It was apparently a form of address with 
which he was familiar and my pseudonym sounded like it 
to him. We anglicized it to ‘Deedon’ and he’s borne 
the name ever since.” 


106 


“DEE DEE ” 


“It is rather surprising that he has taken to you the 
way he has, Anne,” remarked Mrs. Deane. “They are 
‘one-man dogs,’ you know, and rarely share their fealty 
with another person, but he seems to have an affinity for 
you. I’m getting jealous. He always treats me with the 
gentlemanly respect due to his master’s mother and a 
reasonable amount of affection, since mine’s the hand 
that feeds him, but there is a distinct reserve about it. 
We’re not intimates and certainly he has never offered to 
hug me, as he did you this afternoon. I suppose I should 
be very thankful for that, for undoubtedly I’d be 
crushed to earth.” ; 

“And, unlike Truth, probably unable to rise again,” 
said the Rector. “His tremendous liking for you is odd, 
in a sense, though. He lived so long with men only that 
his suspicion of women’s skirts—and their owners—is 
deeply grounded and still persists. He can understand 
neither, apparently, thereby proving his masculinity.” 

For the first time in many hours the girl really 
laughed. 

“Are we as bad and incomprehensible as all that, Dee- 
don?” she asked, laying her shapely hand on his head, 
whereat his bushy tail thumped the floor. The dog had 
been listening with seeming interest to the talk which he 
certainly knew had to do with himself. 

“In any case, I’m not jealous,” announced his owner. 
“I’m only too glad to share his affection with you, Anne. 
From now on he’s our dog, by virtue of his own com¬ 
mendable choice of the party of the second part. And 
what’s more, I’ll wager that he will obey you as readily 
as he does me—and will no one else. Try him, just for 


DEEDON 


107 


the fun of it. He understands a great many simple com¬ 
mands perfectly.” 

“What shall I ask him to do?” By this time the girl 
was almost enthusiastic over the new game, which had 
temporarily driven her troubles from her mind. Dee 
Dee leaned across the table, motioning to her to do like¬ 
wise, and whispered a few words into her ear, with his 
lips just touching her wavy, faintly scented hair. 

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. Then she spoke aloud 
in a commanding tone. 

“On guard , Deedonl” 

Like a flash—when the words were barely out of her 
mouth—the animal had leaped to his feet, whirled 
around facing the door, and was standing crouched, with 
the wiry hair on his neck beginning to bristle, and his 
pointed fangs bared menacingly. A low, but ominous 
rumble issued from his throat. 

It was all so startlingly sudden that Anne gasped and 
shrank back in her chair a little. 

“As you were, old fellow,” said the Rector, quietly. 
The dog instantly relaxed his posture, turned and went, 
wagging his tail, to lick his master’s outstretched hand. 
“Good boy.” 

“Good graciousl” Anne gasped, a little breathlessly. 
It seemed to her as though she had innocently touched a 
button and thereby started a tremendous machine into 
violent action. 

Dee Dee nodded and smiled. “You see it worked. 
If you should ever be in danger and have Deedon along 
with you at the time you would be well protected.” 

“I shouldn’t be afraid of anything,” was her delighted, 


108 


“DEE DEE” 


but still rather tremulous response. “Oh, how good all 
of you are to me! I don’t know why!” 

There were a few seconds of embarrassed silence. Mrs. 
Deane was also waiting to see what answer her son would 
make. He hesitated; then smiled and replied lightly, 
“Why, because you’re you, of course. Come, there 
seems to be nothing more to eat and Maty has just stuck 
her head in the door, probably wondering if we had rung 
and she hadn’t heard it. I move that we adjourn.” 


CHAPTER IX 


ANNE’S “CONFIDENCE” 

The abrupt termination of the meal brought a moment 
of sudden restraint. Anne instinctively realized that 
the hour of her further trial was at hand, and she steeled 
herself to face the ordeal without faltering and get it over 
with as quickly as possible. She did not understand why 
it was necessary for her to disclose the secret which she 
would infinitely have preferred to keep locked in her 
heart, but, since Inspector Morrissy had advised her to 
do it, and the Rector probably expected her to, she felt 
in duty bound to make good. It would quicken painful 
thoughts and memories anew, but she would not spare 
herself, since she had not been spared by Fate. 

Mrs. Deane may have guessed something of the strug¬ 
gle which was going on in the girl’s mind as they walked 
together to the hall, and pressed her hand in understand¬ 
ing sympathy and encouragement. She also imagined 
that Anne would probably prefer to speak to the 
Rector alone, and tactfully excused herself on the plea 
of having certain duties to which she had to attend 
before the day closed. She went in the direction of the 
kitchen, leaving the man and girl standing near the study 
door, both ill at ease. 

Dee Dee was still cudgeling his brain to think of some 
way in which he could broach the distasteful subject 
109 


110 


“ DEE DEE” 


without being too abrupt, when Anne laid her hand on 
his arm and took the initiative herself. She spoke a 
little hesitatingly but with courage. “Doctor Deane, I 
want to talk with you—to tell you something, if I may.” 

“Why, of course, Anne.” 

“I’ve been thinking of what the Inspector said to me 
this afternoon. It seems as though I just couldn’t bear 
to tell any one about—about the unhappy quarrel I had 
with Uncle—with Mr. Sommes. But he hinted that I 
ought to explain it and if I must-” 

“Yes?” 

“I—I think I would rather tell you than any one 
else.” 

“Bless your heart, Anne.” 

Dee Dee spoke on the moment’s impulse and for the 
barest instant he pressed the hand still resting appeal¬ 
ingly on his arm. Then he became matter-of-fact. “I 
think the same as Morrissy does—that you should 
explain about it to some one. In justice to yourself, I 
mean. If it hadn’t been for what you said regarding 

it- And, of course, I’m pleased that you’re willing 

to tell me. I hoped that you would be, but hardly knew 
how to suggest it. This makes an unpleasant matter 
easier. For me, at least. Suppose we go into the study 
where we can talk quietly and undisturbed.” 

As he opened the door for her, he continued, “You 
know that I want to help in every possible way, Anne, 
and that I wouldn’t think of urging you to tell me 
something of a private nature, and probably painful to 
you, as well, if it weren’t that-” 

“Oh, I understand. It’s all horribly unpleasant for 



ANNE’S “ CONFIDENCE ” 


111 


you, too. I don’t know why you are so- The In¬ 

spector said that I really owe my release to you as well. 

Why-?” She broke off her disjointed sentences for 

an instant, and again seized his hand in both of hers, 
feverishly. It took all the self-restraint which the man 
possessed to remain outwardly calm, and continue the 
role of sympathetic friend and advisor, even temporarily. 

“It’s all an awful nightmare,” the girl continued. “Oh, 
it must be—and I’ll wake up-” 

Dee Dee turned to close the door, allowing Anne a 
moment in which to regain control of her emotions a 
little. With an effort she spoke more calmly as she went 
on, “I mean to tell you everything, but I’m certain that 
what happened hadn’t anything to do with the—the 
shooting of Mr. Sommes. How could it have? But since 
they suspect me-” 

“They don’t, now, I’m sure that they don’t. And we 
never did, Anne.” 

“I know, and I’m so glad. It’s about the only bright 

spot- But other people do.” Her voice broke again 

and she gave a little wailing cry, “Oh, where is Tommy? 
Why hasn’t he come to me?” 

It was the particular question which Dee Dee had 
been most dreading, and although he dissembled well 
enough so that his answer carried a tone of conviction, he 
was far from feeling confidence in his own heart. “He’ll 
come soon. Of course he will. He must have left the 
city hurriedly for some reason or other, last night, and 
probably hasn’t learned of the tragedy yet. I’m sure 
that he’ll show up tomorrow and then the clouds will 
begin to lift. And now let’s have it out—you and I— 








112 


“DEE DEE” 


man-to-man fashion. Pretend that I’m your pal. I want 
to be, Anne.” 

She answered with a wistful, fleeting smile. It was as 
though a momentary ray of sunshine had just touched 
the deep, shadowy pools which her eyes resembled. 
“That’s sweet of you—and comforting, Doctor Deane.” 

“But you’re not playing up to the part! Of course 
I’ve been calling you ‘Anne’ ever since you were little 
more than a child, but now you’ve grown up, and if we 
are to be truly pals it’s only fair that you reciprocate, 
and call me ‘David,’ or ‘Dee Dee’.” 

“Oh, but I couldn’t! You’re a minister.” 

“There is nothing per se sacred in that. And first of 
all I’m a man, and your friend. You won’t find it diffi¬ 
cult after the ice is once broken, and it will make the 
exchange of confidences easier. Please, Anne.” 

He knew that she was going to comply with his request 
and wondered which name she would choose—“David,” 
which few called him except his mother, or the nickname 
which he loathed yet had to take from the lips of nearly 
all of his intimates. When she answered, hesitatingly, 
the words gave him a peculiar thrill. 

“Very well, if you really want me to—David.” 

To cover up the depth of his feelings, he responded, 
almost breezily, “That’s the ticket. Anne and David it 

is, from this time forth until-” He checked himself 

hastily and the girl gave him a rather startled glance. 
“Until further notice,” he concluded in lame fashion. 
“Now sit down in this big, comfortable chair-” 

“But that’s yours. I know it is.” 

“I surrender all right, title and interest therein and 


ANNE’S “ CONFIDENCE 


113 


thereto, in your favor. Please do as I say. Do you mind 
if I smoke?” 

“Not at all. I love to see a man at home with a pipe, 
he looks so comfortable. Uncle Sue used—oh, David, I 
hate to tell you about—him, but I must and I want to do 
it as quickly as I can. Only please turn your head 
away a little. I’m afraid I couldn’t go through with it if 
you look at me.” 

He obeyed, surprised by her words and tone. And 
with his surprise came a lightning flash of comprehension 
which almost stunned him. The thought was merely a 
general impression, in this instance, but his sixth sense 
registered—as he had expressed it. Her own thoughts 
were still confused and conflicting but the subject of her 
impending disclosure was gripping her mind and he, too, 
understood. It produced a shock. He could not credit 
it, for an instant. Then came amazement and anger. 
The thing was grotesque, if it were true. And he knew 
that it was true. Dee Dee took a hard grip on himself 
to prevent himself from displaying his feelings and 
frightening the girl. To calm himself he filled his pipe 
with exaggerated deliberation and lighted it with extra 
care, although the hand which held the match trembled 
a little. 

For her part the girl hurriedly continued: 

“I don’t know how to begin, it’s still all confused in my 
mind, the past few days have been so—different. You 

know Tom and I have lived with Mr. Sommes since- 

But perhaps you don’t know the whole story and I might 
as well tell it. 

“You see, father and mother were both killed in an 



114 


“ DEE DEE ” 


accident when we were four years old, leaving us with no 
near relatives at all. Mr. Sommes was father’s younger 
partner in the bond business and his most intimate 
friend—we had known and loved him ever since I can 
remember. From the time I could talk at all I called 
him ‘Uncle Sue.’ He and Aunt Lucille, whom I can 
hardly remember for she died a year later, took us to 
bring up and Uncle Sue was appointed our legal guard¬ 
ian. They never actually adopted us but we always 
looked on him almost as a father, and he did everything 
that a father could have done for us—gave us a beauti¬ 
ful home, education and affection; everything a child 
could wish for. I’ve been so wonderfully happy there 
for nearly seventeen years that—oh, this doesn’t seem 
possible I Of course at first I suppose I missed mother’s 
love and care but we had Nancy—Miss Newell—who 
was our nurse when we were little and then stayed on as 
housekeeper. Dear, dear Newey! This has broken her 
poor heart. But in every way Uncle Sue stood in loco 
parentis - That’s the right expression, isn’t it? 

“Except for Tom’s occasional wildness, there wasn’t 
a real shadow in my life, until—until I graduated from 
college and came home, five days ago. Then—oh, how 
can I tell you, David? Everything was changed, from 
the moment he welcomed me. At the beginning I 
scarcely gave it a thought, feeling that perhaps the 
change was in me , somehow, the result of my having 
grown up. I noticed a difference first when he—when 
he kissed me. Of course that was perfectly natural. 
But his embrace was—not the same. It’s awfully hard 
for me to tell you this, David.” 



ANNE’S “CONFIDENCE” 


115 


The man did not answer but his heart was seething. 

“Then, the following evening, he asked me to come 
into his study, and almost instantly asked me to—to 
marry him.” 

Prepared as he was for the disclosure, or something 
like it, Dee Dee could not help swinging around towards 
her and half raising himself in his chair, the arms of 
which he was gripping fiercely. 

“Please don’t look at me; I asked you not to!” 

He saw that the girl’s cheeks had flushed hotly and 
that her eyes were hidden by their curtain of long lashes. 
“He was very nice about it, then, but at first I simply 
couldn’t believe that he was in earnest. Of course I 
thought he was joking and laughed at him—why, it was 

almost as though my own father- Of course he 

isn’t—wasn’t—really old for he was under fifty, but you 
understand.” 

Dee Dee nodded without speaking. 

“I can’t tell you all that he said, except that he had 
loved me all his life and that his affection had changed 
and grown as / did. At last I understood. He really 
did want me to marry him and he was terribly in 
earnest. I was frightened and upset; I didn’t know what 
to say. I told him that I loved him dearly, but not in 
that way—oh, I couldn’t, possibly! 

“That was all, at the time. He seemed bitterly disap¬ 
pointed but he didn’t urge me. He merely asked that 
I think it over for a few days and see if I couldn’t change 
my mind, saying that he realized that the idea might 
have been rather a shock to me. I don’t believe that I 
slept at all, that night—and I had been looking forward 



116 


“ DEE DEE 


so eagerly to coming home!” Her words were like the 
echo of a cry from her vanished girlhood. 

“Well, for a few days life seemed to slip back into the 
old, happy ways and I had begun to think that he had 
accepted my answer as final. It was, of course. But 
last evening—oh, heavens, was it only last evening?—he 
asked me again, and—differently.” 

“Just when was that? The time, I mean?” interrupted 
the Rector, speaking somewhat huskily. 

“Just after dinner. I was in the library downstairs. 
Tom had come home, unexpectedly, for he had been 
planning to take a camping trip with some chums as soon 
as college closed—but he had gone up to his own room— 
he seemed nervous and upset about something, but 
wouldn’t tell me what. Mr. Sommes joined me there 
and re-opened the subject. This time it was different. 
He was insistent and excited. He took me in his arms 
—I can’t tell you about that, but I became actually 
frightened. I told him to let me go, at once, or I should 
always hate him. I’m afraid that I pushed him away 
violently, and I’m pretty strong, you know. For a 
moment I didn’t know what was going to happen. But 
he grew a little calmer and began to plead with me, 
again. It nearly broke my heart to refuse, for he had 
been so good to me. 

“Oh, I’m sure that he wasn’t really himself, or he 
would never have said the things he did. I can’t repeat 
them. But for one thing he told me that he wanted me 
more than anything else in the world—that he must 
have me. And then he said that only a few days ago 
he had made a new will leaving me everything he had, 


ANNE’S “ CONFIDENCE ” 


117 


and that I could have everything in life that money could 
buy if I would marry him. I think that I must have 
become a little hysterical, then, for I said that I wouldn’t 
take any money from him, either now or later—I didn’t 
want it, and had plenty of my own. 

“I don’t know just why I said that, but I’ve always 
had plenty to spend and I imagined that father had been 
rich, too, and left us well provided. Then Mr. Sommes 
told me that—that Tom and I had nothing. That he 
had been supporting us, all these years. I didn’t, I 
couldn’t believe it. I said it wasn’t true, but that even 
if it were I wouldn’t take any more from him—that I’d 
go to work. 

“He wouldn’t listen to me, and continued to repeat 
the same sort of promises. If I would agree, I could 
have anything I wanted. By that time I was all worked 
up and answered bitterly that if I should marry him I 
wouldn’t have everything I wanted—I wouldn’t have the 
man I would like for a husband. He insisted that I 
explain what I meant. So I—I told him that I cared for 
—for some one else. Please, please don’t ask about that. 
It doesn’t matter, does it., David?” she begged, appeal¬ 
ingly. 

For an instant he did not answer. Then he said, in an 
emotionless tone, “No. It—doesn’t matter.” Still, he 
had difficulty in smothering a groan, and his finger nails 
bit into the chair arm. He knew, of course, to whom she 
was alluding, and—God, how it mattered! Dee Dee 
likewise had his cross to bear. 

“Then I ran away from him and hurried to Tom,” 
Anne continued. “I wish I hadn’t, for I was crying and 


118 


“DEE DEE ” 


he got the whole story out of me. I never saw any one 
as furious as he was. He swore that Uncle Sue was 
lying—that he wanted to marry me to get hold of my 
share of the money that father left, or that perhaps he 
had lost it and couldn’t make an accounting. We’re just 
of legal age now, you see. It sounds like an old-fash¬ 
ioned melodrama, doesn’t it?” she added, with a pitiful 
attempt to smile. 

“Yes, rather. I suppose that Tom did act melodra¬ 
matically, but- Well, you might as well know the 

truth, Anne, and it is exactly as Mr. Sommes said. This 
afternoon I’ve taken the liberty of discussing this case 
with the lawyers, especially as to what they might know 
of his business affairs, in the hope of finding something 
out which would supply a possible clue to the murder. 
There is no question but that he had made a great deal 
of money and is—was—a wealthy man, but most of it 
came within the last dozen years. When your father 
died, the firm was actually on the verge of bankruptcy, 
they told me. And what he left is all legally yours, now, 
Anne.” 

“I don’t want it! I won’t touch a penny of it. How 
could I after what has happened?” she cried, her control 
breaking again. 

“Somehow I believed him, anyway, even when I said 
that I didn’t. Oh, David, what an awful, awful thing 
this is! Why need it have happened to me when every¬ 
thing had been so perfect?” 

“God knows, my dear. But we won’t talk about that 
part of it any more just now. It is ended; it can’t be 
remedied. And we know that Time is the great healer 



ANNE’S “CONFIDENCE” 


119 


of hurts—although I don’t want to ‘preach’ at present.” 
Indeed, the Rector uttered the platitude while mentally 
denying it as applicable in his own case. 

“Perhaps,” the girl answered. “But I think that he 
really did love me. Don’t you?” 

“Of course!” Dee Dee responded promptly, but he 
wondered. What was love? Did that man of middle life 
really love Anne in the way he did? No. He could 
not have, he told himself, and wondered again. Yet he, 
too, wanted her, horribly. The realization pained and 
shamed him for he had believed himself on a higher 
plane where physical desire was, if not absent, at least 
subordinated to spiritual. Dismissing such considera¬ 
tions from his mind, he asked, “And what happened 
then?” 

“Tom said that he was going to ‘have it out,’ immedi¬ 
ately, with Mr. Sommes—you know how impetuous and 
hot-headed he is. I tried to stop him, knowing that it 
would only make a bad matter worse, but he wouldn’t 
listen to me. He started down the hall, and just at that 
moment Dan—Mr. Leighton, I mean—arrived to take 
us to the theater, for he had invited us in the afternoon. 
It seemed to me that I was never more glad to see any 
one in all my life. Dan seemed like a life-saver, for 
while he was there Uncle Sue left the house. I couldn’t 
refuse to go, very well, and had to try and act as though 
nothing had happened. I suppose that I pretended to sit 
and smile through a silly musical farce, although I heard 
hardly a word of it. 

“When we got home again, about quarter after eleven, 
my head was splitting, and I excused myself and went 


120 


“DEE DEE” 


to my room at once. Williams said that Mr. Sommes 
hadn’t returned, so Tom went up to his room at the 
same time, taking Dan with him—I think that he meant 
to give him something to drink, for he seems to have 
fallen into bad habits that way. And somehow I’m ter¬ 
ribly afraid that he told Dan the whole story, for I 
heard him say, ‘There’s something I want to tell you 
about—something you ought to know,’ as they went 
down the hall together. That would be too awful!” 

The Rector once more checked an impulse to ask her 
to explain, and merely inquired, “And then?” 

“I don’t know. I went to bed and the next thing I 
know was that the sound of the shot woke me. I told 
you all the rest this morning.” 

There followed a brief period of silence, broken only 
by a weary sigh from the girl. 

“Isn’t it rather strange that you haven’t heard any¬ 
thing from Mr. Leighton, today?” he asked. “As a close 
friend and a member of the Sommes firm-” 

“Oh, no. Why, he probably doesn’t know a thing 
about the tragedy yet. He told me that he was going to 
take the one o’clock train for the North, last night, and 
spend a fortnight or more in his fishing camp up in 
Maine. Even if he got a paper, en route, and read the 
story, he wouldn’t have had time. What a shock it will 
be to him, too! He’ll come back at once, of course. 

“If you don’t mind and you think that I’ve told you all 
that I might, I’ll go upstairs now, David. I’m very tired 
and my head is aching again—it has ached all day, in 
fact.” 

“Naturally. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve been a 



ANNE’S “ CONFIDENCE ” 


121 


brute to keep you here, tonight, when tomorrow would 
have done just as well.” 

He rose as she did, but as he started towards the 
door the telephone bell rang and Anne told him not to 
come with her. He returned and lifted the instrument 
from the desk, but before removing the receiver, said, 
“Good night and refreshing sleep, with pleasant dreams 
if possible, Anne.” 

“Good night. I’ll try.” 

She smiled wanly and, stepping out of the study 
quietly closed the door behind her as he took off the 
receiver and announced, “Doctor Deane speaking.” 

Over the wire came the words, “This is Police Head¬ 
quarters. Inspector Morrissy wants to speak with you, 
sir. Please hold the line.” Then: “That you, Doctor? 
Say, we’ve got the man who murdered Sommes—at 
least we’ve had a telephone confession and he’s on the 
way here to give himself up. Thought you’d want to 
know.” 

Dee Dee felt his heart constrict. “You don’t mean 
it!” he exclaimed. “Who-?” 



CHAPTER X 


DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 

“You don’t mean it! Tom Willoughby?” 

“Yep. Our second best bet was right. He admits 
the whole thing.” 

“Merciful heavens. This is too terrible, Inspector. 

His sister- Do you mind if I come down there 

myself, right away?” 

“Glad to have you, if you care to. I called up rather 
thinking that you might want to be present—I almost 
said ‘in at the death,’ but that’s a bit unpleasantly prema¬ 
ture. It’s bad business, as you say.” 

“Shocking! I can’t believe it, even yet. You don’t 
know how this news has shaken me up—and I’ve just 
this minute been telling his sister that he’d show up by 
tomorrow and that then everything would begin to look 
brighter. You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure that some one who gave his name as Tom 
Willoughby telephoned ten minutes ago that he’d just 
returned to the city and was coming to surrender himself 
as the murderer of Sewell Sommes. He said, ‘Don’t tell 
Anne until I come.’ I expect him any moment, now.” 

“I’ll come right down. Good-bye.” 

Dee Dee replaced the receiver with a palsied hand and 
then passed it over his brow with the gesture of a man 
whose mind was dazed. The blow had fallen, and he was 
122 



DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 


123 


the first to receive it. It must fall on Anne next and she 
would be crushed. And it would be his job to break the 
news and her heart. For a moment his sole thought 
was of her and the additional suffering that was in store 
for her—Ossa piled on Pelion. Her guardian, once so 
beloved, changed into an object of loathing and then 
slain—by the hand of her own twin brother! She would 
think that she was to blame; that she had unwittingly 
incited him to the deed; that the bloodstain was upon 
herself. Henceforth life could hold nothing for her but 
sorrow and shame—he knew that this would be her feel¬ 
ing. And she was the girl he loved with all his being; to 
save whom from suffering he would gladly have sacri¬ 
ficed himself! He knew that his emotions were highly 
wrought up, but he knew, too, that melodramatic as the 
thought was, it was actually true. Surely if he had not 
considered the cost when his friend, Bob Neville, was in 
trouble and needed his help, he would not hesitate to give 
even his life for Anne, whom he loved a thousandfold 
more. And yet he was powerless to help; in the mental 
anguish of the moment he even saw himself as a man 
tied to the stake while his mate was being tortured before 
his eyes. And this was the man who had smiled at 
emotional romances and regarded himself as self-con¬ 
trolled and calm! He felt that they were both con¬ 
demned for life by this new tragedy. In spite of all the 
obstacles which had been reared between his love and 
its fulfillment, hope that he might somehow even yet win 
Anne had flickered in his heart up to a moment ago. 
But now that feeble flame was snuffed out. After this 
she would never dream of marrying any one. She was as 


124 


“ DEE DEE” 


sensitive as she was high-spirited, and she could not keep 
her head unbowed under such cruel bludgeonings of 
fate. For a moment, bitter hatred of the man—now 
dead—who had been the cause of all the trouble took 
possession of his heart. In Tom’s case there was at 
least some excuse. He had undoubtedly acted in what he 
thought was quixotic defence of his sister. 

Dee Dee almost stumbled from the room. He heard 
his mother moving about upstairs and—in a voice which 
sounded strange to his own ears—called to her that he 
was going out and would be gone an hour or so. Hardly 
waiting for her reply, to the effect that she would be 
waiting up until he returned, he seized his hat, more by 
instinct than anything else, and ran out in search of a 
taxicab. It had not entered his mind that he would have 
saved time by telephoning for one. 

During the ride to Police Headquarters he became a 
little calmer, but he could not put the same thoughts out 
of his mind and concentrate it on any other subject. The 
clicking meter repeated the word, “Anne, Anne, Anne—” 

When the Rector reached his destination, Morrissy 
told him that young Willoughby had just arrived and 
was being held, downstairs, for his call. His first words 
had been a query about his sister, an excited demand 
that she be released, instantly, and that he be allowed 
to see her if only for a moment. No, he had not yet 
been told that she had been released some hours previous. 

For a man who had been so nearly frantic a few 
moments before, Dee Dee was strangely calm in the 
face of the actual crisis, and he thanked the Inspector for 
telephoning him. Then he said, “Tom will have to be 


DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 


125 


questioned and his confession taken down stenographi- 
cally, I suppose?” 

“That’s the procedure. Yes.” 

“Is it necessary that he be placed under oath first? I 
mean, couldn’t he swear to it after it has been written 
out?” 

“Why, sure, I suppose so. But what’s in your mind, 
Doctor?” 

“Nothing, I’m afraid. I just thought—I don’t know, 
but I would like to ask that it be done that way, if it can. 
And I would also like to hear what he has to say, with¬ 
out myself being seen, if that could be arranged some¬ 
how. I’d regard it as a favor.” 

“Good Lord, you don’t have to ask favors of us. Of 
course it can be fixed—it’s done plenty of times, under 
slightly different conditions, as when we want one of 
the force to hear what’s said by the accused and perhaps 
show himself at a psychological moment. Mike, place a 
screen in the corner, there, and put a chair behind it 
for Doctor Deane.” 

As the officer started to carry out his instructions, Dee 
Dee said in a lower voice to Morrissy, “There’s one 
thing more. I suppose that this a wholly useless sug¬ 
gestion, but it’s just possible that I might think of some 
question, or questions, for you to ask him, which might 
clear up some matters concerning which I’ve learned 
something, already. Anne has told me about the quarrel, 
you see. I can’t really hope that anything will come of 
this idea, for of course you’ll try to dig out all the details 
in order to make sure-” 

“You bet, although of course there’s no reason to be 



126 


“DEE DEE ” 


doubting Thomases regarding Thomas. He has reiter¬ 
ated his statement and circumstantial evidence was 
against him anyway. He was one of those who had 
been using the revolver in the afternoon; he’d also quar¬ 
reled violently with Sommes—and of course he had a 
latchkey. Probably he went out somewhere in the 
interim and got tanked up on bootlegged liquor.” 

“I know. I suspect that it happened like that, but 
there may have been some extenuating circumstances—a 
struggle. Of course that idea is pretty vague, but-” 

“Well, I’ll have Mike stand near you so that he can 
hand me any memoranda you may want to make. Here’s 
a block of paper. Got a pencil?” 

Dee Dee nodded. There came a knock at the door 
and he hastily slipped into his place of hiding. Glueing 
one eye to the slender crack between two leaves of the 
screen he could see the Inspector’s desk, the stenographer 
sitting ready with a notebook in his hand, and an empty 
chair which had been placed for the self-accused man. 
He heard the door open. A second officer led Tom into 
the room. A moment later the young man had stepped, 
sullenly, into the range of his vision and turned to face 
Morrissy, lifting his chin with a look of defiance. 

The watcher had caught but a momentary glimpse of 
his face, drawn and blurred from having gone a day and 
a half unshaven, but he experienced a sharp pang, for 
Tom’s resemblance to his twin sister was marked, 
although there were also marked differences in the ex¬ 
pression of their countenances. Almost identical fea¬ 
tures may show strength in one and weakness in another, 
and so it was with those two. The differences were 



DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 


127 


made more apparent by reason of the youth’s disheveled 
appearance, for his wavy hair was badly rumpled, his 
eyes were tired and set in dark circles and there were 
lines of weariness around them and his mobile mouth. 
Yet as he faced the Inspector he suddenly squared his 
shoulders either with manly resolve or stubbornness. He 
was ready to play the game, and take his medicine, 
unflinchingly. Dee Dee’s heart went out to him anew, 
on the moment. 

The officer announced his name. Morrissy pointed to 
the empty chair with a pen which he had picked up, but 
said nothing. Tom hesitated, and then burst out with, 
“What have you brought me up here for? Why don’t 
you lock me up and release my sister? I did it!” 

“Sit down there, young feller,” growled the officer. 

“What the hell for? I-” 

“Sit downI Bein’ fresh won’t help you any.” 

“And I guess it won’t hurt any. I’ve got hell coming 
to me anyway. Don’t you suppose I know that?” He 
had raised his voice almost hysterically in speaking and 
it broke at the end of the sentence. With a sound, half 
choke and half sob, he sank into the chair and buried his 
face in his hands. An instant later, however, he was sit¬ 
ting upright again, nervously poised on the edge of the 
chair. 

Without so much as looking at him, Morrissy had 
gone on with his writing, apparently indifferent to all 
that had been said. The silence in the room became so 
intense that the scratching of his pen across the paper 
was distinctly audible. It grew to be fairly nerve-rack¬ 
ing and the concealed onlooker began to realize that he 


128 


“DEE DEE ” 


was witnessing the prologue of what—in a different case 
—might become an exemplification of the “Third De¬ 
gree”—although the Department would probably have 
denied that it was ever worked, nowadays. In his own 
hypersensitive condition of mind, due to what he had 
gone through that day and was now going through, Dee 
Dee himself felt, more and more, the sensations which a 
criminal might be expected to experience seated in that 
inquisitional chair, surrounded by enemies—the “Bulls” 
—and with his haunted eyes fixed on the immovable fig¬ 
ure behind the desk who merely wrote and wrote—and 
wrote. 

His imagination had him in so powerful a grip that he 
actually shuddered. 

Then he became conscious of his own anomalous posi¬ 
tion. How almost incredible it was that he—Doctor 
Deane, Assistant Rector of a fashionable city church, 
whose life had pursued peaceful paths for more than five 
years; who read the ritual at the morning service and 
preached in the evening; who week-days superintended a 
mission and performed the simple parochial duties— 
should thus find himself a spectator at such a scene and 
in such a position. And not a spectator, merely. Was he 
not, pro tempore, a semi-official criminologist himself, 
engaged in assisting the police to solve a murder mystery 
—which was, alas, a mystery no longer? 

“Why in the devil don’t you say something?” Tom 
demanded, unable to bear the suspense any longer. He 
started from his seat, but the officer’s hand descended 
heavily upon his shoulder and forced him back. 

This time the question seemed to galvanize the In- 


DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 


129 


spector into action. His hand flung away the pen and 
descended with a crash on the desk, as he snapped out 
the words, “Tom Willoughby, you telephoned us, con¬ 
fessing that you shot and killed your guardian, Sommes, 
last night. Is it the truth? Wait! It is my duty to 
warn you that a stenographer will take down your an¬ 
swer, as made before witnesses, and that anything you 
say may be used against you.” 

“I understand all that. Yes, it’s true.” 

“Very well, then. Now go ahead. Make any state¬ 
ment that you wish to regarding the affair.” 

“I have nothing further to say. I did it; that’s all 
there is to it—and it ends me, too, I suppose.” The 
young man tried to make his tone one of braggadocio, 
but failed. The hysterical note crept back into his voice 
as he added the demand, “I insist that my sister be re¬ 
leased at once. What did you boneheads arrest her for, 
anyway? Why, any one but a numbskull could have 
told that she was as innocent as—as anything.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the Inspector with a touch 
of sarcasm. Then he caused Dee Dee to start with 
another thundering blow On the desk. “But your saying 
so doesn’t necessarily prove it, young man. I want you 
to understand, distinctly, that your sister is under sus¬ 
picion of having killed Sommes and that the case against 
her is a strong one. You say that you did it! Very well, 
prove it!” 

Tom wilted visibly. “I’ll talk—I’ll tell everything,” 
he responded in a husky voice. “What do you want to 
know?” 

“Now you’re showing a little sense,” the Inspector 


130 


“DEE DEE ” 


said, and immediately began to bark forth a string of 
rapid-fire questions. 

“Why did you kill him?” 

“We’d quarreled.” 

“What about?” 

“None of your damned business,” Tom flared, but 
almost instantly altered his manner and added, half 
apologetically, “There’s no use of my getting nasty, I 
suppose. But what difference does it make? I’ve con¬ 
fessed, haven’t I?” 

Ignoring the question, Morrissy continued, “Your sis¬ 
ter admitted that she’d had a quarrel with him, too. 
Was it about the same thing? Was she mixed up in the 
murder, too?” 

“No. She knows absolutely nothing about it. And—” 
he paused for just an instant. “My run in with him was 
something entirely different—a personal matter. If 
you’ve got to know, it was about money.” 

“He refused to give you whatever you’d asked for and 
so—you shot him!” The Inspector’s voice was biting. 

“Yes. No, there was more to it than that. I was des¬ 
perate and—I’d been drinking heavily. I guess I was 
crazy, but he—damn him!” 

“Hmm. I see, that’s different. Well, how did you 
kill him?” 

“With a revolver—your men found it. It belongs to 
Anne, my sister, but I had it.” 

“That’ll stand a little explanation. She says that she 
always kept it in a closet in her bedroom.” 

“It wasn’t there last night. We’d been fooling with it 
in the afternoon, shooting at a target. I was the last to 


DEE DEE TAKES A HAND 


131 


use it and when we were called to dress for dinner I car¬ 
ried it in. Anne was ahead of me and went upstairs 
and as I didn’t want to bother to take it to her—I had a 
friend with me—I laid it, for the time being, on a shelf 
in the hall coat closet.” 

The explanation satisfactorily cleared up one question 
for which they had been seeking an answer, and the 
Inspector nodded, glancing toward the screen. 

“Was any one with you when you put it there?” he 
asked. 

“Yes. Dan Leighton, but I don’t see the point of all 
these questions.” 

“Never mind. You answer ’em, that’s all. Now, 
when did your quarrel with Mr. Sommes take place?” 

“It was after we—my sister, Leighton and I—had 
returned from a show, and he had got back from his club. 
About a quarter to twelve, for a guess.” 

“Where?” 

“In his private study, on the second floor.” 

“And you went downstairs, got the revolver, returned 
and shot him?” 

“No. You know well enough that it didn’t happen like 
that,” Tom flared out. 

“All right. Go on—when did you do it?” 

“I can’t tell you, exactly, but it must have been about 
half-past one. After I left him, close to midnight, I 
rushed out of the house, got my roadster and drove like 
the devil up the turnpike as far as Westerly, without 
any particular idea except to keep moving. I had some 
ugly thoughts that were driving me. I ran out of gas 
there, and stopped at a garage to have the tank filled. I 


132 


DEE DEE” 


was carrying a pocket flask—I’d had a few drinks at the 
house—and hit it two or three times. The bootlegger 
called the stuff ‘Scotch’ but whatever it was it had a kick 
like a mule and must have made me rather crazy. Any¬ 
how I had a wild desire to ‘get’ Sommes for treating me 
in the scurvy fashion that he had, so I turned around and 
drove back home. I let myself into the house with my 
latchkey, found the revolver where I had left it 
and-” 

“And proceeded to murder the man who had brought 
you up from babyhood!” interrupted Morrissy, in a tone 
which clearly indicated that, used as he was to dealing 
with cold-blooded crime, he was humanly shocked. 

“I did!” Tom answered defiantly. “And it served him 
right.” 

“Well, of all-” A slight cough emanating from 

behind the screen caused the Inspector to break off and 
wait while the police officer who had been standing near 
it advanced across the room and handed him a folded slip 
of paper. 

He glanced at the note, gave a visible start of aston¬ 
ishment, read it a second time, hesitated, then cleared 
his throat and demanded, sharply, “And what would you 
say, young man, if I should tell you that your whole 
story is a tissue of lies, and that we happen to know that 
your guardian wasn’t killed at about half-past one, but 
at twelve-thirty —an hour when, according to your state¬ 
ment, you were driving like the devil towards Westerly, 
twenty-odd miles away?” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 

“Wha — what?” 

Tom Willoughby started from his chair and stam¬ 
mered the word. In an instant all the blood seemed to 
have been drained from his flushed face. His involun¬ 
tary exclamation alone was enough to betray him, and, 
despite his astonishment, the Inspector triumphantly 
drove the spike home, by making an assertion which 
went beyond the scope of Dee Dee’s pencilled suggestion. 
“It’s a fact. Now then, what have you got to say?” 

In an unsteady voice the dazed youth muttered some¬ 
thing about “The newspaper account-” Then his 

tensed body literally slumped in the chair and he covered 
his face with his shaking hands. 

Nor did he move when he again felt a hand descend on 
his bowed shoulder—a gentle hand, this time; nor yet 
immediately when a new voice addressed him; one 
which he recognized with vague surprise as Doctor 
Deane’s. 

“That was rather fine of you, Tom,” the Rector was 
saying. “A lie is seldom something to commend, but I 
guess that the Recording Angel will forget to make a 
note of yours, just now, since you were deliberately 
sacrificing yourself for the purpose of protecting Anne. 
Isn’t that so?” 

The young man did not respond, and Dee Dee con- 
133 



134 


“DEE DEE ” 


tinued, “Come, buck up, old fellow! You’ve come 
through a mighty hard character-test with real credit, 
even though it wasn’t necessary and might have been 
disastrous. Anne was released hours ago and, in spite of 
what Inspector Morrissy said, isn’t any longer under 
serious suspicion.” 

“Truly?” This time Tom did get to his feet and 
caught hold of the other’s hand, his face momentarily 
illumined. Then it clouded again, stormily, and he burst 
out, “Why the devil wasn’t I told that before? I’ve 
been in h—1; I’ve perjured myself-” 

“Not legally; you weren’t under oath, you know. And 
you have no right to blame any one but yourself. You 
had declared yourself to be the guilty man, and suspicion 
rested jointly on you, too. The police knew that there 
had been a quarrel, you see. They’ve been trying all day 
to locate you. At the start we had no way of knowing 
that you weren’t telling the truth.” 

“ ‘We?’ How do you come to be mixed up in this 
mess, Doctor Deane?” demanded Tom, obviously bewil¬ 
dered by the sudden turn which the affair had taken. 

Dee Dee answered evasively. “How could I help 
being interested, on your account as well as on Anne’s? 
I’ve been here twice before today, and when the Inspec¬ 
tor was good enough to telephone me that you were 
coming to give yourself up I asked, and received, permis¬ 
sion to be present. Have you forgotten that I’m your 
Rector, and naturally wanted to help you, if I could?” 

“I see. It was mighty kind of you, sir.” Then, after 
a pause, Tom added, “But how did he know that I was 
lying? I thought I had made up a plausible story—the 



THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


135 


newspaper said that Uncle Sue was killed at about 
one-thirty—that it was absolutely established.” 

Morrissy hastened to reply. “Never mind, now, how 
we knew. Your story was well enough up to a certain 
point, but a sane man doesn’t drive for a couple of hours 
in the cool night air and then commit murder, delib¬ 
erately, because of a quarrel over money, even if he’s had 
a few drinks of hooch—especially if he had ’em an 
hour before the event. No, sir! That yarn wouldn’t 
fool a child, if he had our knowledge of criminals.” Dee 
Dee restrained an impulse to smile a little but the 
Inspector apparently felt that he had gone too far in 
taking the credit, for he added, “Besides I don’t mind 
telling you, now, that we had a new style of die-detector,’ 
in operation—and it worked perfectly.” He grinned at 
the Rector. 

“Honestly? Good Lord. Guess I should be glad that 
I wasn’t actually guilty,” exclaimed Tom, in further 
astonishment. “Well, what next?” 

“Next we want to hear the true version of what has 
happened, so far as it concerns your actions, since you 
rushed out of the house at midnight, last evening. After 
that—well, as Doctor Deane said, your statement wasn’t 
made under oath, and if he’ll agree to hand you a stiff 
lecture on the evils of lying, and the danger of monkey¬ 
ing with the machinery of the law, I’ll hand you over to 
him, as I already have your sister. He’ll have to be 
responsible for you. But let me tell you one thing. 
If it weren’t for him you’d be spending tonight, and prob¬ 
ably many more nights, behind the bars—even if you 
eventually got off without hanging.” 


136 


“ DEE DEE” 


“I don’t quite understand, but anyway I appreciate 
all that he’s done for Sis and me, sir. And now that I 
know she’s free, I’ll tell you anything you want to know 
—truthfully, this time.” 

“That’s what we expect—and you can expect us to 
check up your statements to make sure that they are 
veracious.” Tom grew red, but swallowed the intem¬ 
perate answer that had sprung to his lips. 

“Well, what I told you about driving as far as West¬ 
erly and stopping there for gas, was the truth. I had 
certain reasons for wanting to get out of the city and on 
the spur of the moment had also decided that I wouldn’t 
ever go back to Sommes’ house. I had received an invi¬ 
tation to join some friends on a fishing trip up in Maine 
and made up my mind, while I was driving, that I would 
head for their camp, dropping a line to Anne, en route, 
telling her where I had gone. I suppose that it was sort 
of a crazy notion, but I wasn’t in a condition to think 
straight. By the way, the man who sold me the gasoline 
will probably be on duty now, and he’ll be able to vouch 
for the fact that I was there between twelve-thirty and 
one. He’ll remember me for I gave him a drink from 
my flask. It was at the Westerly garage.” 

“Call ’em up, Mike,” said the Inspector. “All right, 
go on, Willoughby.” 

“Instead of turning back, I kept going north until 
early this morning, when I was so nearly tuckered out 
that I was almost asleep at the wheel, so I turned in at 
the first decent road house that I came to—the Washing¬ 
ton Inn, just beyond Five Forks—went to bed and slept 
like a log until after two o’clock this afternoon.” 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


137 


“Wait a jiffy. Did you register there under your own 
name?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Mike, put in another call—the desk clerk at the 
Washington Inn.” 

“Yis, sor.” 

Tom’s face flushed again, but he went on steadily. 
“When I got downstairs the first thing I saw was a 
morning paper lying on the counter. The news of Uncle 
Sewell’s murder was smeared across the top of the front 
page and right under it was the statement that my sister 
had been arrested as a suspect. I can’t tell you how I felt 
—it nearly knocked me out completely and for a minute 
I guess I acted like a crazy man. The clerk thought that 
I was sick—and he was right! I managed to pull myself 
together enough to read the story and I realized, of 
course, that she was a victim of circumstantial evi¬ 
dence. But the one fact that stuck in my bean was 
that she was in jail; accused. I had run away like an 
idiotic schoolboy and there she was, without any one to 
rely on. It naturally didn’t occur to me that Doctor 
Deane would step in the way he has done. 

“The report I read was simply rotten. It made Anne 
out a black murderess, with there being no question as 
to her guilt. My only idea—when I got so that I could 
think at all—was it was up to me to get her out of jail, 
somehow. I suppose that taking the blame myself was 
unnecessary and perhaps mad, but it was the only thing 
I could think of, at the time. But it wasn’t self-sacri¬ 
fice on my part, as Doctor Deane put it—not by a jugful. 
Even though I was a bit off my nut from anxiety about 


138 


“DEE DEE ” 


Anne, I knew that you couldn’t hang me—that is- 

Well, now that I come to think it over, my logic was 
away off.” 

“I suppose you mean that you could tell the truth 
later and that you had alibis to back up your story,” 
said the Inspector. 

“That’s it. Only of course by my clearing myself at 
any time suspicion would have been fastened on Anne, 
again, in case her innocence had not been established in 
some way other than by my confession. But that didn’t 
occur to me, then, or later—not until just now, in fact. 
Any way, you see there wasn’t anything heroic about it, 
Doctor. 

“Well, my first thought was to telephone you at once 
and I did put in a long-distance call. While I was wait¬ 
ing for it to get through I asked the clerk when I could 
get a train back to the city—knew that I could make 
quicker time by rail than driving the old bus. He told 
me that one was due in five minutes—the three-thirty- 
two—and that I could just about make it, by sprinting. 
I guess I reached the station in something less than 
‘flat’ time. The train was late, of course—a half hour 
behind time when we reached the terminal. I tele¬ 
phoned you from there, and—I guess that’s all.” Tom 
had been standing while he talked but now weariness 
overtook him and he dropped back into the chair. 

For a minute the Inspector sat drumming thoughtfully 
on his desk. Then he shot a surreptitious glance at Dee 
Dee, who nodded. Tom had told the truth, this time. 

“Hmm. I see. Well, that’s all—for the present,” he 
said, and added, addressing the stenographer, “You 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


139 


needn’t bother to write out your notes unless I should 
ask for them. 

“Yes, that’s all, Willoughby. I want to talk for a few 
moments with Doctor Deane, and will ask you to step 
into the waiting room.” 

“Yes, sir. But—where is my sister? At home?” 

“No, Tom, she’s staying for the time being with my 
mother,” responded the Rector. “I mean to take you 
there, also—we can knock up some sort of sleeping 
arrangements for you.” 

“That’s bully of you, Doctor. You’re a brick and 
can bet that neither Anne nor I will ever forget it.” To 
the Inspector he said, “Good night, sir. I’m awfully 
obliged to you for letting mo off so easy.” 

Morrissy grunted. “Scotch verdict: ‘Not guilty—but 
don’t do it again.’ I hope that this experience will teach 
you a lesson or two. Don’t go out of your way to butt 
into the police force, and at the same time don’t forget 
that we’re human—not ogres. Now, beat it. Mike, you 
go and keep an eye on him.” The final sentence was 
spoken with a grin which rendered it innocuous. 

The pair departed in company. Morrissy waited until 
the door had closed behind them and then turned to Dee 
Dee with eyebrows raised in interrogation. 

“Not a bit of doubt about it,” Dee Dee declared in 
answer to the unspoken query. “His second version of 
what happened was unquestionably the truth. But you 
were dead right when you told him that your new-fangled 
‘lie-detector’ registered. I sixth-sensed almost immedi¬ 
ately that he was prevaricating, or at least thinking out 
a lie, and knew the instant he switched onto the wrong 


140 


“DEE DEE ” 


track. However, I didn’t want to butt in on the party 
until I was sure that I could prove it.” 

“Consider your salary doubled from tonight, Doctor,” 
grinned Morrissy. “To tell the truth, I suspected him 
toward the end, myself. The story seemed straight 
enough until he came to that statement of his about 
driving back twenty-five miles, and—pshaw! Cases like 
this aren’t common, but they do happen occasionally, of 
course. It was something like what the chauffeur did 
in the Williamson robbery matter.” 

“Yes. I remembered that incident just before Tom 
was brought in, and tried to bolster up my courage by 
hoping that it might turn out to be similar. Somehow I 
couldn’t associate Tom Willoughby with murder and I 
knew that he thinks the world of his sister. They are 
twins, you know, and two born together at birth often 
seem to be bound closer, spiritually, than ordinary chil¬ 
dren of one family. In fact, I’m beginning to think that 
I must have been subconsciously banking on just what 
happened, when I asked you not to put him under oath. 
I hadn’t the courage to admit it, even to myself, for 
I’m not—and never shall be—a true ‘seer.’ I’m still 
more or less a slave to reason, and it said ‘No,’ in this 
case. 

“Although I knew that he was deliberately misstating 
things, fairly soon after he started to answer your ques¬ 
tions, I decided to wait for a chance to catch him up on 
some assertion the falsity of which I could demonstrate, 
if necessary. It came when he said that he had shot his 
guardian about half-past one, and-” 

“Hold on there, a minute. I don’t get you. Wasn’t 



THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


141 


your note suggesting that I ask him that question just a 
bluff, calling his bluff?” 

“Not a bit of it.” 

“Not-? Er, what? You don’t mean to say that 

you really imagine that Sommes might have been mur¬ 
dered an hour before that time?” 

“I’m practically sure that such was the case, In¬ 
spector.” 

“Oh, see here, now!” Morrissy grinned tolerantly. 
“You can take my word for it that the butler telephoned 
at about one-forty-five—within five or so minutes after 
he’d found Miss Willoughby in the study. She says 
that her guardian wasn’t dead when she got there, and 
you say that she told us the truth. Then there’s the 
further, and still better, evidence of the watch which 
was stopped-” 

“Exactly. It’s the best evidence,” interrupted the 
other. “That was what gave me my starting point. Let 
me ask you a question. How carefully did you examine 
it?” 

“Why—er—I looked at it, but not very particularly. 
Daley-” 

“I know. Daley made a mistake. At least I’m prac¬ 
tically certain that he did. He accepted the obvious for 
the true. It was a natural thing to do, under the circum¬ 
stances and in view of the peculiar coincidence that 
seems to have occurred. I certainly wouldn’t have 
guessed what actually happened, either, if it hadn’t been 
for an experience that I had, myself, only a few weeks 
ago.” Dee Dee smiled slightly as he noticed the look of 
bewilderment on the Inspector’s weary countenance. 



142 


“DEE DEE ” 


“If you’ll dig the watch out of the safe, and examine 
the hands with the hawk-eye that a detective is supposed 
to have, you’ll discover that although the hour hand 
actually points about half-way between the numerals 
I and II, it is slightly beyond the half-way mark, 
although the minute hand indicates only twenty-seven 
minutes past. I happened to notice that and wondered 
why, since of course they should synchronize exactly. 
Then I remembered that a while ago the stem-setter on 
my own watch went on a strike and I tried to set it by 
moving the minute hand around with my finger, as you 
would a clock’s. It started to bend before it moved 
forward. Now the hands of Mr. Sommes’ expensive 
chronometer are very slender and made of gold—a soft 
metal-” 

“And the hour hand was actually bent?” 

“Exactly. For more than an hour’s worth, so to 
speak, just where it joins on to the thingumbob in the 
center of the dial. When the face was smashed as he 
fell, one piece of the crystal must have been jammed 
diagonally downwards with sufficient force to bend the 
hand and then wedge it in its present position. It actu¬ 
ally starts to point between XII and I.” 

Morrissy slowly shook his head and said, “Well, I’ll 
be-” 

“That’s the way I figured the thing out, but I wasn’t 
positive that I was right until I had tested and verified 
my theory later. This afternoon I made a call on the 
medical examiner whom Daley had summoned a little 
after two o’clock, you’ll remember. He told me that 
rigor mortis had already set in, and that this generally 




THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


143 


doesn’t occur in the case of a healthy, middle-aged man, 
who has met a sudden death, until about two hours after 
his decease. Daley hadn’t happened to question him on 
this point, since he felt absolutely sure of the time when 
Mr. Sommes was killed, I suppose. And the doctor him¬ 
self hadn’t given the subject any thought as it wasn’t 
raised, and he had been too busy to read the newspaper 
story.” 

“Oh, just you wait till I see Dan in the morning! 
Well, he said that he wanted to take some lessons from 
you, and he’s got one in a hurry—the young bonehead!” 

“Don’t rub it in by holding me up as a shining 
example, please. His conclusion was natural enough 
even though it was mistaken. But, to clinch my con¬ 
tention, there’s one other thing. You’ll remember that 
Miss Willoughby said that when she reached the room it 
was partially illumined by moonlight?” 

Morrissy nodded. 

“Well, they told me at the weather bureau that the 
night was beautifully clear until shortly after one 
o’clock when the sky became completely overcast with 
clouds. The moon wasn’t shining at all at one-twenty- 
seven, but the butler didn’t notice this fact since the 
lights in the study had been turned on.” 

“D’you mean to tell me that the girl lay there, un¬ 
conscious, for more than an hour, and then suddenly 
came to, herselj?” 

“Undoubtedly. Stranger things have happened. She 
managed to switch on the electric lights and then fainted 
dead away, you know. In falling, she probably struck 
her head against the edge of the door and the blow 


144 


“DEE DEE ” 


stunned her—in fact, she has a bruise over her left eye 
and has had a headache all day. Of course you know 
that it’s entirely possible for a person to remain uncon¬ 
scious from a slight concussion, for a long time, and then 
recover his senses by himself. And in such cases the 
victim has no idea of the lapse of time. In this particu¬ 
lar instance, though, there was the peculiar coincidence 
that both she and the watch agreed on approximately 
a full hour’s error. Daley can’t be blamed for accepting 
that evidence.” 

“Pick up the marbles—you win, Doctor! I’ve got to 
hand it to you for being able to use the ordinary senses 
and reasoning faculties, as well. When are you going 
to accept a regular job on the force?” 

Dee Dee smiled. He was human, and honest praise 
warmed him. Moreover, he could not help but be 
pleased with the realization that his assay into the fields 
of practical deduction had been so successful. Perhaps 
it was just as well that he did not have the power of 
prescience at that moment, however, or he might not 
have been mentally spurred to further attempts along the 
same lines. Still, one cannot always win, and fore¬ 
knowledge of failures to come would probably prevent 
man from making the attempt, and that is often more 
important than the achievement, in the scheme of life. 

Although Morrissy’s praise had been sincere and 
hearty, he was chagrined. “ ‘Don’t take anything for 
granted!’ That’s been my motto for years, and I’ve 
tried to impress it on Daley’s so-called brain. Now he 
slips several cogs and I also fail to practice what I 
preach. Well, he’ll be punished enough by the knowledge 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


145 


that he failed where the ‘amachure’ succeeded, again. 
If it wasn’t for that I’d be tempted to send him back to 
pounding the pavements for another spell. Anyhow, I’m 
obliged to you, Doctor, even though so far you’ve spent 
all your time and ability in tearing down what we’ve 
laboriously built up. Here we are, right back where we 
started—in fact we’re not even ‘holding our own.’ You’ve 
stolen our two best prospects—or suspects—from us.” 

“I know it. But you can’t help agreeing that the 
sooner a false trail is discovered to be such, and aban¬ 
doned, the sooner we’re likely to strike the true one. 
The circle is narrowing, although the quarry is still in 
cover.” 

“Of course that’s right. But as matters now stand 
the Department is faced with another mystery to stew 
over, and be roasted about. ‘Panning the Police’ is the 
Press’s most popular pastime—to use alliteration’s artful 
aid. By the way, the cat is already out of the bag. 
Have you seen a final edition?” 

“No. What have they got in print, now?” 

“The news that Miss Willoughby has been released 
and is staying at your house—together with both perti¬ 
nent and impertinent conjectures. Somebody must have 
seen you and spilled the beans.” 

“The deuce!” Dee Dee ejaculated, with considerable 
feeling. 

“And then some. Now we are up a tree. The news- 
hounds have picked up the trail and tomorrow morning 
they’ll be around us in full cry, wanting to know why 
we did it and what we’ve discovered to justify us in hav¬ 
ing done it. To tell you the honest truth, in my official 


146 


“DEE DEE ” 


capacity I breathed a breath of relief when I heard that 
young Willoughby had confessed. It would have ended 
a mess of trouble for us. Now the news-hungry pack 
has been cheated out of a couple of palatable morsels 
—either brother or sister could have been served up, 
red-hot, to satisfy the sensation seekers—and if we can’t 
produce a substitute to fill their maws, mighty soon, 
they’ll be yelling for my head again. It’s an old, old 
story.” 

Morrissy made the statement with a wry smile, but 
followed it with a half-audible sigh. The Rector knew 
that what he had said was the truth and answered sym¬ 
pathetically, “ ‘A policeman’s life is not a happy one,’ 
as Gilbert once wrote for Sullivan to set to music. About 
the best thing the public does is criticize—and that goes 
for my profession, as well as yours, Inspector. Still, even 
a policeman could hardly want to save his own head at 
the expense of an innocent man’s neck.” 

“No.” 

“Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. The 
trouble more often comes from what they do know, that 
ain’t so—as the old negro said. Like Anne Willoughby’s 
guilt, in the present instance. They made her out a 
Lucretia Borgia, at least by innuendo, and although I 
feel rather like a traitor to my old trade in saying it, I’m 
human enough to want to get even. Twisting mere sus¬ 
picion to look like proven fact isn’t my idea of real 
journalism, but it’s being done more and more con¬ 
stantly, for sensational effect.” 

“Right you are. Of course most of the ‘boys’ are 
0. K. and good scouts and I have to keep on the right 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


147 


side of them as’far as possible. Still- Have you 

any suggestions to make, Doctor ?” 

“I don’t know that I have. Of course I’ve got a sel¬ 
fish interest in wanting to see Anne’s name cleared, com¬ 
pletely and immediately, now. Heaven knows that she’s 
suffered too much already, as a victim of circumstance. 
You might—well, why not? I mean why not put on a 
bold face and issue a statement that no further suspicion 
attaches to either her or her brother—this in consequence 
of some new information which you have received. It 
would be literally true. You might even go a bit further 
and say that the murderer is known.” Dee Dee’s whim¬ 
sical smile appeared for a moment. 

“Doctor! I’m surprised at you!” 

“But—put in those words—that would be strictly 
true, too. I didn’t say that we know who it is, but the 
guilty man knows, himself, and in all human probability 
is already being punished by the knowledge. What the 
courts may inflict on a criminal isn’t to be compared 
with what conscience can—and does in most cases.” 

“Maybe not; although that’s certainly no argument in 
favor of the immediate abolition of the former, and the 
police force. But I’m still astonished at you. I’ve heard 
that the devil can quote scripture for his purpose, but 
I never expected to hear a respectable D. D. descend to 
such a quibble, even in a good cause.” 

The Inspector pretended to look shocked, but his eyes 
laughed. 

Then he suddenly smashed his hand down on the desk 
again, exclaiming, “You’ve affected me with the ‘hunch’ 
madness, I think, but I started by playing one, success- 



148 


“DEE DEE ” 


fully, this morning, and hanged if I’m not going to keep 
it up—on your recommendation. I’ll go the whole hog! 
Might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, anyway, 
and we’ll make an ass of the Press even if I am acting 
like a goose in doing it, and will probably be the goat in 
the end. There, how’s that for a barnyardful for you?” 

“I’d call it showing horse-sense, dog-goned if I 
wouldn’t,” added Dee Dee in mock seriousness. The 
pendulum had swung to the other extreme and relief from 
haunting fear had made him momentarily frivolous. 

“Enough! Honestly, though-” 

“Wait a minute, I’ve just thought of another. Of 
course I should have said, ‘Horse-sense for a “ Bull” 
the other interrupted. 

“That will be all, young man. There are limits—and 
that’s the limit!” The Inspector spoke with an assump¬ 
tion of parental sternness. “What I started to say is 
that this is likely to turn into a pretty tough case, now. 
Sommes was a big man in the financial world, you know. 
If he had been a nobody, nobody would have cared a 
rap—and we’d probably have got the guilty party behind 
the bars already. That’s the perversity of Fate. As it is 
the public will demand that the murderer be brought to 
justice and our troubles begin all over again. Daley 
thought that everything was jake when he telephoned, an 
hour ago, and I told him that young Willoughby had 
confessed. He’s out on another case tonight, but tomor¬ 
row he’ll have to get back on the job again, hotfoot. 
So will all of us, for that matter. 

“Oh, by the way, you say that Miss Willoughby has 
told you something about the quarrel?” 


THE NARROWING CIRCLE 


149 


“Yes. She told me the whole story. It’s a sordid one 
and horribly distressing to her—I can readily under¬ 
stand why she answered Daley the way she did, last 
night. There’s no reason why I should not tell you 
the gist of it, in confidence.” The Rector briefly out¬ 
lined the story of Sommes’ proposal and Morrissy said, 
“The devil! Yes, that explains her unwillingness to 
talk, right enough. Of course it upset her, but it would 
hardly have furnished a motive for her murdering him— 
and of course we’ve agreed to count her out, anyway. 

“There’s no clue in that—unless- By thunder, 

perhaps there is, at that. I believe we have found the 
key to the mystery!” 



CHAPTER XII 


THE NEW TRAIL 

Dee Dee’s weary eyes sprang wide open at this 
announcement, and he answered, “The key? I’m afraid 
that I don’t follow you, Inspector.” 

“Yes. Or rather a possible motive behind the killing. 
Jealousy, I mean.” 

“ ‘Jealousy’?” 

“Precisely. Have you forgotten what Dan told us 
about Leighton—Miss Willoughby’s lover? He was at 
the Sommes’ residence late last night. If he knew about 

the quarrel, which is possible- Then there’s the 

matter of the will by which Sommes made the girl his 
heiress; he might have known—he’s a junior member of 
the firm. Wonder how his own financial affairs stand? 
And why he hasn’t shown up, today?” 

Morrissy had been thinking out loud and as the Rector 
caught the obvious implications contained in his dis¬ 
joined sentences he felt himself grow hot and cold by 
turns. Supposing it should turn out to be true! There 
was still another thing that the Inspector did not know, 
but that he did—Anne’s significant statement that she 
was afraid Tom had told Leighton everything, and her 
exclamation of distress, “Oh, that would be too awful!” 

On the instant his brain became a battleground for 
thoughts and impulses in bitter conflict. 

He had given his pledge to Morrissy to help to the 
150 



THE NEW TRAIL 


151 


limit of his ability; he had promised Anne to do every¬ 
thing possible to assist in bringing her uncle’s murderer 
to justice. Furthermore, if this new supposition should 
prove to be a fact—if Leighton had actually committed 
such an incredible crime to clear his path to the girl and 
a fortune simultaneously, she must be saved from any 
further entanglement with him, whatever the cost. Yet, 
loving him, she was sure to trust and to defend him 
against any such frightful accusation, and certain to 
abhor any one who sought to prove him guilty. Finally, 
the knowledge that suspicion had shifted from herself 
to the man she loved, would cause her new anguish. 
The case had truly progressed from the frying pan onto 
the stove and now into the fire, and whoever else escaped 
the flames he seemed to be marked for them. 

Why had he ever permitted himself to mix, as an 
active participant, in this tangled, nerve-racking affair? 
The rebellious question entered his mind only to be dis¬ 
missed instantly. Loving Anne as he did, he could not 
have helped getting into it; and being in, he would see 
it through. His hands were to the plow and he must 
follow—perhaps even guide—it to the end of the furrow, 
although in so doing he might be digging the grave for 
all his own hope of happiness. 

But where did his duty lie at this new turning? Was 
he under any moral obligation to take an active part in 
endeavoring to fix the crime on Daniel Leighton, if 
it should come to that? Or could he remain a passive 
onlooker? If he followed the latter course he might be 
self-accused of moral cowardice. If he followed the 
former, he might be charged—at least by his own con- 


152 


“DEE DEE ” 


science—with being actuated thereto by jealous hostility. 
The horns of the dilemma. Theretofore he had always 
rather prided himself upon being a good sport and a 
good loser. He had sincerely rejoiced with a successful 
competitor on his victory. But now—no, not now! 
Jealousy! What a tormenting demon it was and not to 
be exorcized by any effort of the will, no matter how 
sincere. He recalled that he had once preached a con¬ 
vincing sermon—convincing to himself, that is—from 
the text, “For jealousy is the rage of a man.” How easy 
it had been to preach, treating, academically, a subject 
of which he knew nothing from personal experience! 
How easy to advise his congregation to say, “Get thee 
behind me, Satan.” Yes, but supposing Satan refused 
to “get,” what then? Jealousy can be conquered in only 
one way—by forgetting it; and Dee Dee was discovering 
that a deliberate intention to put something out of mind 
invariably results in constant recollection of it. 

The speed with which mental concepts can pass 
through the brain is marvelous. The lightning’s flash is 
no quicker and one can be superimposed on another just 
as a vivid bolt is sometimes seen against the quivering 
pall of still more distant lightning in the sky. So it now 
was with Dee Dee’s. They were as swiftly changing 
as the forms created by bits of colored glass in a kalei¬ 
doscope and all the time he was subconsciously aware 
that Mike had returned to the room to report that he 
had received telephonic confirmation of both of Tom’s 
statements. The attendant at the garage had said that 
he recalled the party perfectly, and flippantly asked the 
officer to send him out again. 


THE NEW TRAIL 


153 


Continuing his mental debate, Dee Dee asked himself 
why it was that he could not feel the same whole-hearted 
confidence in Leighton’s innocence that he had felt 
regarding the other two. He had been fairly well 
acquainted with him for some years and had known 
nothing positive to his discredit. His feelings up to that 
very day had all been negative regarding the man, except 
in one respect. Leighton prided himself upon being a 
clever conversationalist, yet the Rector realized that he 
was one of the multitude—of whom he had told the 
Inspector, that morning—who employed speech to con¬ 
ceal thought. He almost invariably prevaricated to a 
greater or less degree, in telling of even the most trivial 
incidents. There might be nothing fundamentally evil in 
that, and Dee Dee had set it down as a venial failing. 
But now it came to him that he had never been able to 
catch so much as a glimpse of the man’s real soul. 
There was a veil between their minds which had never 
parted. Or, it had been rather as though he were 
looking at a muddied pool. He could not tell what lay 
beneath, nor whether the water was deep or shallow. 

Having made his report, Mike again retired, and now 
the Rector became conscious of the fact that Morrissy 
had addressed a direct question to him. 

“Did Miss Willoughby happen to mention Leighton’s 
non-appearance today, or make any comment on it, 
Doctor?” 

The demand was clean-cut. Dee Dee was called upon 
to elect which of the two paths he should pursue, and he 
did not hesitate. According to his copybook, honesty 
was the only policy. 


154 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Yes,” he responded. “I asked her practically the 
same question, although of course with no other thought 
in mind than that it was strange that an intimate friend 
of hers and the family, should not have shown more 
interest—to put it mildly. She explained it satisfac¬ 
torily, telling me that he planned to—and undoubtedly 
did —leave the city on the one o’clock train last night, 
starting for a fortnight’s fishing at a camp that he owns 
up in Maine. I imagine that was where Tom started 
for, on the moment’s mad impulse. As she said, it is very 
likely that he hasn’t even read of the tragedy, to date— 
giving him the benefit of the very big doubt. I can 
hardly credit your new theory, yet.” 

“Well, that would explain it. And my theory is only 
a supposition, so far. We can’t afford to go off half- 
cocked, of course. But— Hmm. The one- o’clock train 
last night, you say! And you’re fully convinced—as I 
am myself, for that matter—that Sommes was shot and 
killed before half-past twelve? Hmm. Here’s another 
thing. Young Willoughby stated that Leighton was with 
him, when he parked the revolver in the downstairs coat 
closet. And he was there for some time after they 
returned from the theater. Wonder what time he did 
leave? Did Miss Willoughby happen to mention 
that?” 

“No. Her head ached so badly that she went to her 
room and to bed immediately upon getting home. She 
said that Tom had taken Leighton up to his room—to 
give him a drink, she was afraid.” 

“More drinks, eh? The universal tongue-loosener. 
Like enough it fusel-oiled the hinges on the door of the 


THE NEW TRAIL 


155 


closet where the new family skeleton was stored. And 
out steps Jealousy. It all seems to fit in. Now I won¬ 
der who let friend Leighton out of the house.” 

“Of course I don’t know.” 

“Well, maybe we can find out.” 

The Inspector personally stepped to the door leading 
into the adjacent waiting room, opened it and addressed 
the impatient Tom in a casual manner which carried no 
hint of an ulterior purpose. 

“Oh, by the way, Mr. Willoughby, one more ques¬ 
tion. Your friend Leighton may possibly be required as 
a witness in this case since I believe you said he was at 
the house late last night. It’s possible that he saw Mr. 
Sommes later than any one else, since I understand that 
they were business associates. Do you happen to know 
where he is?” 

“Why, sure. By this time he’s probably reached his 
camp on Silver Lake, up in the Maine woods. He left 
me before midnight, though, in order to finish his pack¬ 
ing and make the one o’clock train, so he couldn’t very 
well have seen Mr. Sommes, who didn’t get in until some 
few minutes later.” 

“I suppose that Williams, the butler, let him out?” 

“No. He told me not to bother him or go downstairs 
myself—Dan’s almost as much at home in our house as 
he is in his own apartment, as a matter of fact.” 

“Well, it’s very likely a matter of no consequence,” 
Morrissy answered, evenly, and added, “I won’t be keep¬ 
ing Doctor Deane but a moment more.” 

He closed the door and turned towards Dee Dee with 
a light of sudden intentness in his shrewd gray eyes. 


156 


DEE DEE ” 


“Did you hear that, Doctor?” he asked and his words 
fairly crackled like high-voltage electric sparks. 

“Yes. There is of course one assumption which might 
be drawn—but I hope that neither of us is going to draw 
it on no more evidence than that.” 

“Certainly not. Still, you must remember that for 
ordinary mortals there are only two methods of proce¬ 
dure in crime detection, after the event. One is by follow¬ 
ing material clues—and there aren’t any in this case; the 
other by seeking for a possible motive, constructing a 
suppositive case and then testing and proving every step. 
That’s the one we’ve got to follow—unless you happen to 
stumble on the solution, psychically. Now I’m merely 
building up a hypothetical case against a possible sus¬ 
pect—Leighton. We’ll start testing it out, tomorrow. 
We may be able to add new bricks to the structure, or 
very shortly discover that it’s a house built of straw and 
without foundation or framework. In that event it’ll fall 
to pieces, and we’ll have to commence building operations 
anew, somewhere else. And perhaps do it again and 
again. So don’t get the idea that I’m prejudging.” 

“I see. Still-” 

“Hold on a jiffy. So far I’ve merely remarked that 
Leighton’s movements last night, and his affairs generally 
—including those financial—are due for a thorough 
investigation. 

“But I’ve just thought of another thing, based on a 
suggestion which you made yourself this afternoon. It’s 
at least possible that he didn’t leave the house at all, 
after parting with young Willoughby. He might easily 
have hidden himself downstairs, somewhere—even in the 


THE NEW TRAIL 


157 


coat closet—and gone back to Mr. Sommes’ study after 
the latter got in, had the blow-up with his nephew, and 
all the rest of the household had gone to bed. Or it’s 
conceivable that he fixed the latch on the front door 
after Williams went upstairs, left the house, got his bag¬ 
gage, returned and let himself in half an hour later. We 
don’t even know that he took the train last night. That’s 
something for us to find out, and also what time he got 
back to his apartment—if at all. Tomorrow, Dan— 
Dan! That’s Leighton’s first name, too, isn’t it?” 

Dee Dee nodded. 

“Hmm. Does that suggest anything to you—another 
possible clue to who really murdered Sommes?” 

The Rector looked rather bewildered. “I certainly 
can’t say that it does, Inspector,” he replied. “What—?” 

“What was Sewell Sommes’ last word before he died?” 

“Why, Miss Willoughby thought that he spoke her 
name.” 

“Did he, though? That’s the point. He spoke con¬ 
vulsively, and it sounded to her like ‘Anne.’ Supposing 
what he did say—or tried to say—was ‘ D-an’?” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE END OF THE DAY 

It was well on in the evening. The glorious June day 
had shaded into a glorious night with a myriad of stars 
gleaming on a blue-black velvet background and the 
quarter moon shining with silvery radiance. 

City dwellers were out in numbers, enjoying it, as Dee 
Dee taxied homeward from Police Headquarters, seated 
by the side of another of the Willoughby family whom 
he had been instrumental in freeing from the clutches of 
the law. But how different the ride! Anne had been 
bowed down; Tom was temporarily exultant. The girl 
had been silent; the young man was wound up and ran 
on like a phonograph, without giving heed to the fact 
that his companion’s replies were brief and perfunctory. 
For Dee Dee’s thoughts were elsewhere—at first on the 
girl, then harking back to Morrissy’s significant ques¬ 
tion, “Supposing what he did say—or try to say—was 
‘Dan’?” and then leaping ahead into the troublesome 
future. 

Mr. Sommes certainly might have said, “Dan” and 
the girl, in her wrought-up condition, misunderstood him, 
but if such were the case could the crime ever be proved 
against Leighton? And how would such an eventuality 
affect Anne? 

When they reached the house Mrs. Deane was waiting 
158 


THE END OF THE DAY 


159 


up, as she had promised, and she greeted Tom with 
unfeigned gladness, in part predicated on relief, for 
as Dee Dee kissed her he managed to whisper in her ear 
the words, “He’s innocent, too, thank God!” 

In her motherly manner she took both of the younger 
man’s hands in hers, saying, “I’m so glad to see you, my 
boy. And your sister will be overjoyed, in the morning 
—we mustn’t disturb her tonight, for she has just been 
put to bed by Miss Newell, who is to sleep on the couch 
in her room.” 

“Good,” said Dee Dee. “And we’ll fix up the couch in 
my study for Tom.” 

“Indeed, we’ll do nothing of the sort, David—what are 
you thinking of? He shall have your room and you 
can sleep in the little spare room in the third story.” 

“Why, of course. I’d forgotten about that one.” Dee 
Dee spoke heartily, but there was a little rebellion in his 
heart. He was tired, very tired, and his own accustomed 
bed called loudly to him. 

“Nothing doing, Mrs. Deane,” broke in Tom, with 
boyish breeziness. “The Doctor shan’t be turned out of 
his own bedroom for me —he’s done enough already. 
Me for the dizzy heights: I’m used to ’em.” 

“Oh, oh! Isn’t that my Tommy’s voice?” 

The eager cry came from the hallway above them and 
Dee Dee, glancing quickly up, caught a momentary 
glimpse of Anne, who had come out into the corridor and 
was leaning over the balustrade looking down with face 
shining with delight. He noticed that she was wearing a 
loose negligee of pale blue silk, but it had fallen open at 
the neck and a little of her white nightgown and fair 


160 


DEE DEE ” 


young bosom was disclosed. Her beautiful hair, full of 
lights and shadows, was done in two long braids, one of 
which had dropped forward over the rail, like Juliet’s 
in the best known picture of the balcony scene. 

Brief as his glance had been, it set his heart a-throb- 
bing fast, and the blood raced madly through his veins. 

Dee Dee was shocked by his own sensations and tried 
to conquer them by reminding himself that he was a 
minister; but instinct answered that—as he had himself 
told the girl earlier in the evening—he was first of all a 
man. And above him stood the woman whom he wanted 
for his mate, wanted more than anything else in the 
world, as hopeless as the desire appeared. 

Before the last word of the inquiry had been spoken 
Tom was bounding up the stairs, three at a time, and a 
second later the listeners heard Anne’s low, happy cry 
and choked sobbing, and her brother’s voice in soothing, 
though unsteady, tones. 

“Come, let’s go into the study for a few minutes, 
dear,” said Mrs. Deane, wiping away her own tears with 
one hand and taking Dee Dee’s with the other. 

A little later Tom appeared downstairs again and 
Mrs. Deane left to prepare the spare room for their new 
guest. The young man entered the study at the Rector’s 
invitation, nervously lighted a cigarette and, after several 
false starts, asked if he might sit up and talk a while 
longer as he didn’t feel like “hitting the hay” just then. 
Dee Dee had to acquiesce, although he fairly longed to 
be alone with his own thoughts. He realized, too, that he 
was dog-tired. The day had been one of continuous 
mental strain for him, more exhausting than almost any 


THE END OF THE DAY 


161 


amount of manual labor could have been. Now the 
inevitable reaction had set in; his nerves were unstrung 
and out of tune. But his day’s labors and perplexities 
were not yet ended! 

The youth—less man than his twin sister was woman, 
at present—flung himself into Dee Dee’s pet armchair, 
which Anne had graced earlier in the evening, and it was 
all that his host could do to keep from scowling. This was 
almost the last straw. Moreover, he constantly fidgeted 
about as he talked, now toying with his cigarette, now his 
watch fob; now rubbing his unshaven chin or running 
his rather slender fingers through his hair until the Rec¬ 
tor felt like tying his hands and placing a gag in his 
mouth. But his own rapidly mounting nervousness 
vanished when Tom abruptly broke off in the middle of 
an aimless sentence, and said, “Say, Doctor Deane, 
Anne’s been telling me a little about the way you came 
to the bat for her, as well as for me, today. You’re one 
of the best—I—I don’t know how to thank you. This 
morning must have been unadulterated Hades for her, 
poor kid, and I feel like a rotter. But you-” 

“Forget it, old man. I’m only too happy to have 
been of what little service I could. But why did you 
skip out—if it isn’t asking too personal a question? I 
know all about the unpleasantness in the household— 
Anne told me herself—but-” 

“To tell the truth I’ve been trying to work the conver¬ 
sation around to that, for I’m bursting to talk about it 
with some one—some one who’ll understand, I mean. 
And everybody knows that you’re a real fellow, even if 
you are a minister. What I mean is, you’re the kind of a 




162 


“DEE DEE ” 


fellow—a man, I mean—that a man—that a fellow, that 
is, can talk to, if you know what I’m driving at.” 

Dee Dee laughed frankly, hoping thereby to put the 
badly rattled youth at his ease. “I guess that I’ve 
caught the general drift of your remarks, Tom. I still 
stand ready to help, if I can.” 

“Oh, I’m not looking for help—not from you, I mean. 

I need it a-plenty, but- No, all I want to do is to 

get the story off my chest, as they say in cultured 
Boston.” 

“It frequently helps. Well, you may fire when ready.” 

“Well, the fact is—is—I’m in the devil of a mess, 
Doctor Deane. I’ve acted like a fool—there’s no 
other word for it, and a number of descriptive adjectives 
ought to go in front of it.” 

“We’ll let it go as it stands.” 

Dee Dee answered calmly, but his heart sank. More 
trouble! What sort of a confession was he about to hear, 
now? 

Tom was shifting nervously about again, but at length 
he blurted forth, “It isn’t anything really wrong— 
well, perhaps that’s not exactly true, either. It depends 
on the point of view. Now, I’d say that I’d merely been 
a fo— guess I said that before.” 

“Out with it, Tom. Get down to brass tacks.” 

“All right. Here goes for the icy plunge. There’s a 
warrant out for my arrest.” 

“Good Lord, Tom! What have you been doing?” 

“It’s a college scrape. I’m not so much worried on my 
own account—I’d bluff it out, somehow, if it weren’t for 
—for Anne, but—well, it would hurt her like the deuce, 


THE END OF THE DAY 


163 


especially on top of what’s happened. I’ll tell you the 
story from the start. Anne graduated last week, you 
know, but I haven’t her brains and I’ve got another year 
at the University. I say ‘have’ but that remains to be 
seen and the prospect is pretty hazy, I’m afraid. This 
year, particularly, I’ve been running with what you 
might call ‘the fast set,’ I suppose, and when the Junior 
Class formed a new chapter of the Byob Society, they 
elected me President—or Chief Byob.” 

“ ‘Byob’?” The Rector echoed the word in a puzzled 
voice, for although he had undoubtedly seen the letters 
in print he had never heard them pronounced as a 
word. 

“Yes. B-Y-O-B—‘Bring your own booze,’ you know. 
It’s a scofflaw, and ‘anti-Volstead,’ society. A thirst, a 
pocket flask and a desire to show one’s contempt for the 
Eighteenth Amendment are the principal qualifications 
for election to it.” 

“I see. From all reports it has a large and not par¬ 
ticularly select membership,” responded Dee Dee, caus¬ 
tically, and Tom flushed a little. 

“I suppose so, but at the ‘U’ it’s quite the thing to 
belong. Well, up to last week its meetings were nothing 
worse than illegal larks, but then we decided that we’d 
see the old college year out with a particularly damn- 
gorgeous—excuse the expression—celebration. As Chief 
Byob—it should have been ‘Boob’—I was elected to 
engineer the arrangements and provide the wherewithal, 
on a pretty large scale. I was supposed to have the most 
reliable bootlegger of the bunch, you see.” Even now 
Tom made this statement with a slight suggestion of 


164 


“DEE DEE ” 


pride. “Well, the news must have leaked out, somehow. 
Somebody peached and we’d no more than got the stuff 
into my room in the dorm when we were raided by a 
couple of Prohibition Enforcement Agents. They caught 
us red-handed—with the goods. 

“It looked like the end of a lot of things for little 
Willie. Perhaps I wasn’t scared—although it really was 
more on Anne’s account than my own, as I said a minute 
ago. I could live it down, but she’d feel that the family 
was forever disgraced. Anyway, my only idea at the 
moment was to get out from under at any cost. I tried 
to see if there was a chance of negotiating—and there 
was, it seemed. Every man is supposed to have his 
price, you know. Between us, we fellows managed to 
dig up enough jack to buy off the little one and give the 
Federal Agent who was in command a good bit, too. 
But that didn’t satisfy him. He’d come all prepared 
with a nice warrant and wouldn’t agree to suspend pro¬ 
ceedings unless I’d also sign a promissory note, payable 
in thirty days, for a cool thousand dollars.” 

“ ‘A thousand dollars?’ Tom Willoughby!” 

“Yes, sir. Happy thought, isn’t it? But he held the 
warrant under my nose and it was either the note or the 
bars, for me. The piper had to be paid, even though we 
hadn’t danced; they confiscated the stuff, you see. I 
don’t know just what sort of a story he’s framed up to 
cover me, but I do know that he’s going to press the case 
if the note isn’t paid. If I come through he’ll see that the 
thing is squashed—or whatever they call it. I guess 
that I’m not very clear about it, but the point is this, 
if the note isn’t paid the whole affair will get out, and 


THE END OF THE DAY 


165 


I can’t let that happen—some of the other fellows went 
on the note with me, but they haven’t any money and I 
promised to protect them. It has become a—a debt of 
honor.” 

“It’s nothing of the sort. I don’t want to climb into 
the pulpit and start preaching, just now, but I tell you 
that it’s a debt of dishonor, and should be repudiated. 
I’m not saying this because I think that you ought to be 
let out. It would probably be a good thing for you if 
you took your medicine for having broken the law—but 
that’s beside the point at present. You were guilty of 
a crime, two of them, in fact, for bribing an officer is a 
blamed serious matter. But the Prohibition Agent is a 
still worse offender. What he did is the sort of thing 
which is constantly shooting holes in the law and con¬ 
sequently lessening respect for it—not only this par¬ 
ticular one, but all law. Instead of receiving more 
money he ought to be made to disgorge what he got, and 
then go to jail. Don’t you know that that note is illegal 
and he couldn’t possibly collect it? If he should try 
to do so he’d be running his own head in a noose.” 

“Oh, I realize that, well enough, Doctor Deane. It’s 
nothing but blackmail—a bluff. But don’t you see I 
can’t call it? If I don’t pay, all he’s got to do is tear 
the note up, deny that he ever received it, and proceed 
against me. He frankly intimated as much. Oh, he’s a 
slick one, believe me, and he has got all of us on the hip. 
He knew that Mr. Sommes was my guardian and hinted 
that if I didn’t come across, he probably would, to keep 
me out of jail and the story out of the papers. And 
now—don’t you see that he’ll read about the will, and 


166 


“ DEE DEE” 


try the same thing on Anne? He might not have dared 
go to Uncle Sue, but she'll look like easy pickings to a 
man of his type. And I can't let that happen. She 
mustn’t know, Doctor. On top of all she’s going 
through-” 

Dee Dee had lost sight of that element in the situ¬ 
ation for a moment, but now it came home to him, 
hard. The horns of a dilemma reared themselves again 
and at the moment his tired brain could think of no 
way to escape them. The thing needed thought, and 
he accordingly temporized by saying, “You’re right about 
that, Tom. I think that we both know Anne well enough 
to say that she would rather bear the disgrace and have 
you face the music than bribe your way out, but—yes, 
it would be criminal to put that added burden on her, 
just now. Let me sleep on this. Perhaps I can figure 
it out, some way. I may decide to have a heart-to-heart 
talk with that slimy chap, myself. Even ministers 
sometimes have to compromise with evil for the greater 
good of others—the innocent ones, you know.” 

Dee Dee gave a slight sigh, but a gleam of hope 
appeared on the countenance of the younger man for a 
moment. Then it faded and his gloomy look returned. 

“It’s mighty fine of you to suggest mixing into this 
mess, Doctor, but I’m afraid it would be no use. I’ve 
got to paddle my own canoe, and I rather think that I 
can get it through, myself. I have a plan.” 

The Rector’s thoughts were again centered on Anne 
and for the moment he failed to catch the significance 
of this statement. 

“Was this why you asked Mr. Sommes for money last 



THE END OF THE DAY 


167 


night, and the real cause of your quarrel with him?” 
he inquired. 

“Yes. At least it was, in part. Anne told you about 
—the other thing, didn’t she? Well, they were more 
or less mixed up, although I lied to the Police Inspector 
about it.” Dee Dee nodded, without thinking, but Tom 
did not notice it. “I won’t go into the ghastly details 
—I’m not keen on recalling last night—but I did demand 
a thousand dollars of him, and when he refused me, flat, I 
told him that we would insist on an accounting of father’s 
estate. Of course Anne had told me that Sommes said 
that dad left nothing, but I didn’t believe a word of it. 
Well, one thing led to another and naturally his pro¬ 
posal was brought in. The nerve of that man imagining 
that Anne would marry him —the old goat!” 

The younger man’s incensement stirred a responsive 
chord in the Rector’s heart, but he answered, “It’s up 
to us to be charitable, now. Perhaps he honestly loved 
her in the way he said.” 

“Love! And he old enough to have been her father! 
Huh— I almost said something else beginning with 
‘H.’ I’ve been around a bit, and I know his kind, 
Doctor. When they get to be that age they generally 
marry chorus girls. It isn’t what I mean by love.” 

Dee Dee smiled and sighed. “Oh, youth, youth!” he 
thought. “To a boy of twenty-one a man approaching 
fifty already has one foot in the grave and even thirty- 
five seems an advanced age at which the capacity to 
love and to desire must surely be lost.” 

“Well, that’s ended, anyway. Gee, what a difference 
twenty-four hours can make! At this time last night I 


168 


“ DEE DEE” 


was hating Uncle Sue enough to want to kill him. Now 
he has been killed by somebody else, and I can’t help 
being sort of sorry, as well as shocked. We hadn’t hit 
it off any too well since I started to grow up—my fault, 
I guess—but he certainly did about everything that a 
man could do, for us. I should be—I am appreciative 
of that. It’s hard to kill in a day, an affection that’s 
been growing for sixteen or eighteen years. 

“However, as horrible as this thing is, there’s the usual 
silver lining to it, for Anne, at least, although she natu¬ 
rally can’t see it, now. She wouldn’t have married him 
but he’d have kept after her just the same, and made her 
life unbearable. As it is she’s free to go ahead and marry 
Dan, who’s been in love with her long enough, and 
although she says that she won’t touch a penny of the 
Sommes fortune, I suppose that it’s legally hers, whether 
she likes it or not. Gee, she’s an heiressl I’ve got to 
say this for Sommes, he came through handsomely in 
that respect.” 

“And what about yourself, Tom?” asked Dee Dee to 
turn the subject which had been torturing him. 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter about me, so long as she is 
provided for. I can get a job. In fact, his death 
probably makes that easier for me, too. It has always 
been sort of assumed that when I graduated from col¬ 
lege I’d enter his employ, but after last night’s kick-up 
that would have been all off, I suppose, if he’d lived. 
As it is, I can count on Dan Leighton taking me on, 
immediately, if I like—I’m sure that he’d be only too 
glad to, under the circumstances.” The youth gave a 
short laugh, and added, “He can take that thousand 


THE END OF THE DAY 


169 


out of my first week’s salary as office boy, for I’ve told 
him about the note and he offered to lend me the money 
to meet it, if Uncle Sue wouldn’t come across.” 

The Rector started sharply. So that was what Tom 
had meant when he said that he had a plan! With the 
situation as it was no worse a solution of his diffi¬ 
culty was conceivable, from Doctor Deane’s standpoint. 
His borrowing any money from Leighton must be 
prevented. 

Without pausing to consider how his words would 
sound, he said emphatically, “No. That won’t do at 
all, Tom.” 

“Won’t do? Why not? Dan wouldn’t miss it and 
he’s perfectly willing to help me out of the hole I’m in, 
on Anne’s account. He said so. Besides, it isn’t like 
accepting help, even temporarily, from a mere friend. 
He’s practically one of the family—at least he’s likely to 
be one of us, before long. Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling 
you that, though, but I know how both he and Anne 
feel.” 

The Rector’s heart grew leaden in his breast and it 
was almost more of an effort than he could make suc¬ 
cessfully to keep his countenance and voice under con¬ 
trol, as he answered. Every trail that he crossed seemed 
to be marked with the two signposts, “Anne” and 
“Leighton.” And he knew, now, that Leighton’s was 
apparently pointed towards the gallows. Yet to Tom, 
their marriage was regarded as a foregone conclusion. 

“I can’t explain, just at the present, what I meant by 
that,” he said, and his conscience gave a sharp twinge 
as he finished speaking the next sentence. “But I’m 


170 


“DEE DEE ” 


sure that my advice as to that is sound and disinterested. 
I appreciate how you feel about this, and agree that if 
we can save Anne additional sorrow it’s up to us to do 
it, but although the way you have suggested out of the 
difficulty seems to be the easiest, I’m certain that it 
isn’t the best, for several reasons. As a personal favor 
to me, won’t you promise to leave the matter wholly in 
my hands for a few days, at least? I have an idea that 
I may be able to straighten it out, somehow.” 

“But I don’t want to put this burden on you, Doctor 
—there isn’t the slightest reason why you should bother 
yourself with it. You’ve been mighty good to Anne and 
me, already, but I don’t want to presume on your friend¬ 
ship. It isn’t as though you stood in Dan’s shoes.” 

“I know, and still appreciate your point of view. But 
I really want to help, Tom. What are friends for, if not 
for that? I’m very much in earnest about this, and wish 
you’d at least agree not to do anything further in the 
matter without telling me, and talking it over.” 

“Oh, well, if you put it that way- Yes, I’ll 

agree gladly, Doctor.” 

“Good. That’s all I ask. I hope that I may be able 
to help, in some way, partly on your own account and 
partly on Anne’s. I think a great deal of her, you know, 
Tom.” 

“Sure. And she does of you. Say, isn’t she a corker, 
though? And—darn it—I’ve been rather worse than a 
chump, time and time again. But I’m going to buck up, 
now, and play the game—for her. She needs all the help 
I can give her—the realization of that came like a blow 
in the solar plexus when I read that newspaper story this 



THE END OF THE DAY 


171 


afternoon, and I said to myself, ‘Tom, old kid, you’re 
off hooch for good and all.’ That may sound like dime 
novel stuff, but I really mean it, Doctor Deane.” 

“I’m mighty glad to hear it. It’s another case of good 
coming out of evil and now that I know that you’ve had 
your lesson, I’m in a better position, morally, to try and 
help you escape from the legal punishment which was 
coming to you, by rights. I trust you, Tom.” 

“Er—er—thanks. I hope that I’ll make good, and 
believe me, I mean to try.” 

“Hello, that’s mother’s knock. I guess your room is 
ready and you’d better be making tracks for bed. Even 
though you didn’t get up until afternoon you should be 
able to sleep after all you’ve been through, since.” 

The two rose from their chairs and started from the 
room together, with the Rector’s arm in brotherly fashion 
over Tom’s shoulders. As they reached the hall the 
telephone bell in the study rang again and Dee Dee 
turned back, rebelliously, after saying good-night to his 
guest. 

The formula which had been followed some three 
hours previous was repeated, almost word for word, and 
then Inspector Morrissy’s voice came over the wire. 
“Hello, Doctor. Hope this’ll be the last time I have to 
call you, today, but a telegram has just been received 
here—a message for Miss Willoughby. I opened it, 
partly so that I might save time by transmitting it 
over the phone, and partly because I was afraid that if 
I sent it up by messenger you would be too honorable to 
read it before handing it over to the young lady—and I 
thought there might be some information of interest to 


172 


“DEE DEE 


us in it. I’m not sure whether there is, or not, although 
it contains one bit of information which may have some 
significance. 

“Got a piece of paper and a pencil handy? All right, 
here goes. It’s dated this evening at Silver Lake, Maine, 
and runs as follows: ‘Inexpressibly’—he got his money’s 
worth in that word—‘shocked to learn of terrible tragedy 
through newspaper story Stop Suggestion that you are 
implicated inexcusable Stop Am wiring our attorneys to 
move heaven and earth to secure your immediate release 
and assist in discovery of real culprit Stop Should have 
started home tonight myself but am laid up here as 
result of an accident Stop Not serious so don’t worry 
Letter follows Stop Love’ Of course it’s signed ‘Daniel 
Leighton.’ ” 

When Dee Dee finally climbed upstairs on weary feet, 
he found Deedon lying close in front of Anne’s bedroom 
door, with his nose between his paws on the threshold. 
The dog thumped his tail softly on the floor, got up, 
stretched himself, and with a final sniff at the closed 
door, followed his master. The Rector talked in a low 
voice to him, as he undressed, seeking, and finding, some 
slight degree of comfort in his silent companionship. 
Here, at least, was one trusty friend in whom he could 
freely confide his innermost thoughts. 

He remained on his knees even longer than was his 
wont, and then threw himself on the bed, thoroughly 
tired out. But sleep was denied him for many hours, 
during which he tossed and turned uneasily. And when 
it finally came his dreams were filled with strange, 
anticipatory forebodings. Perhaps coming events do 


THE END OF THE DAY 


173 


cast their shadows before, on the subconscious mind— 
although such a suggestion would have been rejected 
by Dee Dee. 

The night was mild and very still. From the starry 
heavens the moon shone calmly down, sending an oblong 
shaft of light through his open window, and, so long as 
his eyes remained unclosed, it constantly reminded him 
of what Anne had seen by the same illumination, twenty- 
four hours previous. He knew that she was then peace¬ 
fully asleep in the next room, thank God, but thoughts 
of her, the mystery into which the Sommes’ murder case 
had turned, and of Tom’s distressing scrape, combined 
to keep slumber at arm’s length until it was almost time 
for another eventful day to dawn. 


PART II 


The Following Days 





* 
























CHAPTER I 


A SPARK TO TINDER 

Dr. J. (for Jonathan) Banleigh Barrows, popular 
Rector of the fashionable Church of the Redeemer, was 
a short and portly man. And like many short, portly 
men who also possess real ability and have climbed to 
positions of eminence in their professions—such as Napo¬ 
leon, for example—he was rather pompous. In the 
elevated pulpit, or when discoursing on some weighty 
subject to a group of awed and silent listeners, he was 
prone to indulge in high-sounding, and mouth-filling 
phrases which rolled richly from his tongue. But in 
ordinary conversation, which is disjointed and frag¬ 
mentary at the best, his speech lost some of its impressive¬ 
ness, although his voice retained all of its high-pitched 
resonance. If a door happened to be open so much as 
an inch—which was the case with that between Dee 
Dee’s study and the hall when the Rector was paying 
a call on his assistant, late in the morning of the day 
which followed the one already described—any one pass¬ 
ing on the further side thereof could hardly fail to over¬ 
hear what he was saying. 

And what he was saying, at the moment when Anne 
Willoughby returned from a long walk with Deedon as 
companion, ran thus: 

“Certainly, my dear Doctor Deane. I—er—recog¬ 
nize all that, of course. In bringing her home to your 
177 


178 


“DEE DEE ” 


mother, you—er—obeyed a chivalric and—er—com- 
mendably Christian impulse. Yes, yes. I—ahem—I 
should be the last, I hope, to suggest that any criticism 
attaches to the motive which—er—actuated you. But 

-” A very impressive “but” it was, “may not the—er 

—feelings which you have mentioned, and which I under¬ 
stand perfectly, perhaps have overridden your sense of 
the—er—fitting, shall we say—a little? Under the cir¬ 
cumstances was it not a little—er—ill-advised? We, we, 
of course, feel certain of her innocence, but the unfor¬ 
tunate fact remains-” 

“The unfortunate fact remains, Dr. Barrows,” broke 
in Dee Dee, exercising a self-restraint which caused his 
voice to grate like steel, “that under the circumstances 
it was the only place suitable for her to go. She cer¬ 
tainly couldn’t return home or go to a hotel, and her 
friends—well, they apparently felt as you do. If there 
had been no other reason for bringing her to mother it 
would have been my Christian duty to do so, and as 
for those sensational newspaper stories, they will be fol¬ 
lowed by another exonerating her entirely—in all prob¬ 
ability this afternoon. You may have my word for that, 
sir.” 

“I’m glad, indeed I am perfectly delighted to learn 
that, Deane. That’s splendid. Still, for her own sake 
—I am thinking of her primarily, of course—it seems 
to me that the unwisdom of her being and remaining here, 
remains. Motives, situations, are so commonly—er— 
misconstrued, you know. Public opinion-” 

“Public opinion be—hanged!” exploded Dee Dee in a 
white heat. 





A SPARK TO TINDER 


179 


“My dear Deane!” The other raised a plump, pro¬ 
testing hand. “Surely you don’t mean that. Indepen¬ 
dence of thought and action is doubtless excusable— 
even commendable, within limits. But if we—you and 
I—are to retain our—er—spheres of influence with the 
community, we cannot wholly disregard what the public 
may think, you know. We may mold it, true. That 
is our duty. But disregard it—no—no.” 

“Our Master did.” 

“In one sense, yes. Yet He, too, said, 'Render unto 
Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.’ ” This was, per¬ 
haps, Doctor Barrow’s favorite text. “The fact is that 
I have already heard considerable adverse comment— 
Oh, it wasn’t directed particularly against you, my dear 
fellow. One recognizes your Christian obligation to 
minister to those in distress, and all that. I do think, 
however, that if it were—er—diplomatically made clear 
to Miss Willough-” 

If Dee Dee had not interrupted again at this point, 
and emphasized his words by bringing the flat of his 
hand down resoundingly on the desk, he might have 
heard a stifled gasp that was almost a sob, from the 
hall, and the sound of light feet fleeing upstairs. In 
that case it is possible that the life history of at least two 
persons might have followed entirely different lines. 
But it was decreed otherwise. Fate had prepared the 
tinder and sent Doctor Barrows there at just that 
moment as the unconscious agent in striking the spark. 

“I can assure you that it will not be pointed out to 
her, if I can prevent it!” he said. “I am sorry to speak 
in such a manner, but I disagree with you entirely, in 


180 


“ DEE DEE ” 


this matter. I feel today, as I felt yesterday, that it is 
my bounden duty to do whatever I can to lighten this 
frightful burden for Miss Willoughby, who is a young 
and valued parishioner of ours. No one could have 
offered her the comfort and consolation that my mother 
has. It would have been cruelty to have sent her into a 
strange place at such a time. As for public opinion, 
I’m not in the least concerned with it, on my own 
account, and as for how it may regard her at the 
moment—pshaw! It’s a weather vane and veers around 
with every new breath. Twelve or twenty-four hours 
from now and she will be flooded with sympathy and 
invitations—a heroine. Then she can do as she sees fit, 
but in the meanwhile she should most certainly remain 
under our roof, together with her old nurse and her 
brother, who arrived last evening. 

“If I seem to be acting contrary to your judgment in 
this matter, Doctor Barrows, and you feel that the 
adverse criticism which you mentioned might be preju¬ 
dicial to my value to the parish, I shall gladly—no, not 
gladly, either, but I shall tender you my resignation as 
your assistant.” 

“Deane, my dear fellow! Such a thing is not to 
be thought of.” Doctor Barrows was indeed disturbed 
when he would permit himself to conclude a sentence 
with a preposition. 

“I am afraid that you have wholly misconstrued my 
purpose in mentioning this—er—delicate matter. Please 
believe me when I reiterate that I was thinking wholly 
of Miss Willoughby’s interests. She is a charming, a 
splendid, girl and a great asset to our church. And 


A SPARK TO TINDER 


181 


now, of course, she should be even more so. Mr. 

Sommes’ generous will- And the presence of her 

brother alters the situation materially. I was not 

aware- However, let us say no more about it. 

Doubtless everything will work out for the best.” 

In uttering this trite remark the good Doctor meant 
to be propitiatory, but Dee Dee’s thoughts rose in rebel¬ 
lion. He could not see how anything was likely to 
work out for the best, from his point of view. And cer¬ 
tainly neither the one nor the other had the slightest con¬ 
ception of how they were destined to end—perhaps if 
Doctor Barrows had he would not have spoken so confi¬ 
dently for himself. 

“But,” he continued, dismissing the former subject 
with a gesture, “what I really came to see you about was 
in regard to the funeral, which, I understand, is to be 
held at the residence of the deceased tomorrow at three. 
Of course it will be strictly private, although it is to be 
expected that both Mr. and Miss Willoughby will attend, 
together with a few of his closer associates. Mr. 
Sommes’ attorneys, who are also the executors of his 
will, by the way, have naturally requested me to offici¬ 
ate, and I should like to have you read the service. 
Under the circumstances my own remarks will be—er— 
brief, but, beautiful as our burial service is, I feel that 
the personal touch adds something, as you know, and I 
shall make mention in the simplest fashion of the awful 
tragedy which has removed from among us—cut off in 
the full flower of an abundant life—a man of such 
exemplary character and sterling Christian qualities.” 

As Dr. Barrows departed to enter his waiting limou- 



182 


“DEE DEE” 


sine, a few moments later, he passed on the walk a stocky- 
young man in a blue serge suit and wearing an inex¬ 
pensive Panama rakishly set a-top a head covered with 
curly carroty hair, and vaguely wondered who he might 
be as he raised his own hat in courteous acknowledgment 
of the other’s salute. Then he drove away, wholly sat¬ 
isfied that he had done his duty in an unpleasant matter 
and little reckoning that the commonplace chap whom 
he had just met was likewise an agent and messenger 
sent thither by the Fates who weave human destinies. 

Yet such was the case. And as soon as Daley had 
been ushered into the Rector’s study and seen to it that 
the door was tightly closed behind him—a precaution 
which was also to have a distinct bearing on future 
events, inasmuch as now one passing through the hall 
could not hear what was being said within the sanctum, 
nor yet be heard therefrom—he began to deliver his 
message with an eager enthusiasm which the recollection 
of recent mistakes had in nowise abated. 

Hardly had Dee Dee shaken hands with him cordially, 
waved him to the big chair and pressed upon him one of 
the Havana cigars reserved for especially favored vis¬ 
itors, before he was off. 

“Well, we’re after strrikin’ the right trail sure this 
time, I’m thinkin’, Doctor,” he said. “And again it’s 
thanks to you and the way you read the story told by 
the dead man’s watch—a shame on me for bein’ so 
blind and pigheaded.” 
v “You mean-?” 

“Me high-toned namesake? I do, thin. All roads are 
beginnin’ to lead, not to Rome but to the rummy who’s 



A SPARK TO TINDER 


183 


beat it for the Maine woods. Morrissy wanted me to 
report to you what I’ve learned regardin’ our frind 
Leighton this mornin’, and suggisted that I save you 
the trrouble of cornin’ to see us by goin’ to see you, this 
trrip.” 

“That wasn’t in the least necessary but I’m glad to 
have you here, nevertheless.” 

“Sure, I was plazed to come. It’ll do me no harrm 
to sit down, quietlike, for a minute or two, and spin my 
yarn through the smoke of a real seegar.” He bit off 
its end, ran his tongue around it with obvious apprecia¬ 
tion, lit up, and after two mighty puffs held it off and 
regarded it with friendly look. “Nice cozy place you’ve 
got here, Doc,” he remarked. 

“I think so. But how about-?” 

“Oh, yes. ’Tis this, thin—and no trrouble at all it 
was for me to get the story, the Lord bein’ good to the 
Irish,” grinned Daley. “Leighton done himself a bad 
turrn, last night, whin he came home wid a drrink or 
two under his belt, lost his timper and inded by firin’ his 
valet wid some unkind worrds. I learnt this, first, from 
the janitor of the foine apartment house where he has 
his rooms, the man havin’ told him all about it whin he 
left, they havin’ been cronies. ’Twas no trick at all to 
get his address and run him down, and talk was the 
wan thing he wouldn’t do nothin’ else but—as the nig¬ 
gers say. 

“Well, it seems that Leighton had ordered him to stay 
up until he got home from the theayter, in order to help 
him get off on the wan o’clock train—a helpless crayture 
he must be, entirely. He finally blew in, in the divil of 



184 


“DEE DEE ” 


a hurry, jest about midnight, or maybe a few minutes of. 
He’d already got a good bit o’ a breath on him, ses 
James—probably Mr. Tom Willoughby bein’ to blame 
for thot—and the first thing he done was to take another 
stiff drrink of alleged rye. Wid thot he began to git 
after his man to step lively, sayin’—mind this, now— 
thot he had an important call to make before takin’ the 
train. James was only half awake, havin’ been aslape 
in a chair, and wasn’t up to form, wid the result thot 
Leighton started to bawl him out for fair. 

“Well, whin James was finishin’ packin’ his grips, 
Leighton began rummagin’ around on his own, and 
finally demanded did he know where in a certain hot 
place was his automatic pistol. James didn’t, which 
didn’t help matters anny to spake of. Thin he made it 
worse by tryin’ to argue wid his master that he wouldn’t 
be after needin’ no toy pistol—a twinty-two caliber it 
was, by the way—up in the Maine woods, there bein’ 
plinty of firearms at the camp. He was ordered to mind 
his own business and find the gun, the which he done, 
eventually. But whin he started to pack it wid the rist 
of the things Leighton took it off’n him and stuck it 
in wan of the pockets of his topcoat, mutterin’ some¬ 
thin’ to the effect thot nowadays a man needed a ‘gat’ 
in the city a d-d sight more than in the woods.” 

“Then you think that perhaps-?” 

“I’ve quit thinkin’ for the prisint, for little good it 
does me, I’m thinkin’. Howiver, Morrissy sets con¬ 
siderable store by this bit of ividince, taken in conjunc¬ 
tion wid the rist.” 

“But I thought that it was practically certain that Mr. 




A SPARK TO TINDER 


185 


Sommes was killed by a bullet fired from Miss Wil¬ 
loughby’s revolver?” 

“Sure and I think so, still. Thot isn’t the point, how¬ 
ever. ’Tis this, and mark how it works out! Leighton 
arrives home before midnight, all nerved up over some¬ 
thin’ and half drunk. He gits a gun, which he insists 
on carryin’ on his person, contrary to law, and laves 
his rooms inside of a quarter hour, announcin’ thot he 
has somethin’ important to do before catchin’ a train 
which goes at wan o’clock. James will swear to all this, 
and to the further fact thot he trried to git a taxi in a 
hurry, by telephonin’. From thot ’tis possible to draw a 
number of conclusions, now ain’t it? Supposin’, for 
instance, thot he did return to Sommes’ risidence, a dis¬ 
tance which would take him approximately tin minutes, 
let himself in after the manner which the Inspector sug¬ 
gested to you, last night, all wid the intintion of doin’ in 
the man who he might have thought was a rival, or for a 
number of raysons which will prisintly appear. Whin he 
gits there he might suddinly have remembered seein’ his 
frind Tom lave the other revolver in the coat closet, or 
maybe stumbled on it by chance. What would be more 
natural than thot he would take thot wan, instead, in 
order to throw suspicion on some wan of the household, 
say?” 

“No. There’s certainly a flaw in your argument 
there.” 

“Sure and maybe there is, at thot, on sicond thoughts. 
He’d not be likely to ‘plant’ a weapon belongin’ to the 
gurrl he was in love wid, now would he?” The other 
slowly scratched his head. 


186 


“ DEE DEE ” 


“But thin, again, mightn’t he have, at thot? ’Tis most 
unlikely thot he would even have dreamed of her gittin’ 
hersilf in a position like she done, where suspicion would 
rist on her. Thot was a hundred to wan shot. He 
wouldn’t have considered her at all at all in the mat¬ 
ter, assumin’ thot my supposition is correct. But thot’s 
nayther here nor there, for ’tis possible that I was wrong 
in the first place, and thot Miss Anne’s revolver wasn’t 
the wan used at all. She couldn’t recall whether or 
not it had been freshly loaded, or whether a shot had 
been fired just before they were called in to dinner. 
Of course it may have got there in some quare way which 
might be explained—things do happen like thot, occa¬ 
sionally. More like, though, he did use it and dropped 
it there unintintionally, maybe losin’ his head after com- 
mittin’ the murder.” 

“Yes, that is at least possible and the more likely 
explanation, assuming that you may be right about the 
rest. However, you’re only guessing at what Leighton’s 
movements were after he left his apartment, it would 
seem.” 

“Sure and thot’s so, sor.” 

“But if his man telephoned for a taxi-” 

“I said he tried to telephone for wan, which is a dif¬ 
ferent thing entoirely. As it happened, he couldn’t even 
git cintral. At thot, Leighton complately lost his tim- 
per, and James his job. The tiliphone company has 
a-plinty to answer for, but this is a new indictment, I’m 
thinkin’. Leighton stayed jest long enough to give the 
valet his walkin’-ticket, thin grabbed his bags himself, 
and beat it to find a cab. If he did, ’tis only a matter 



A SPARK TO TINDER 


187 


of time till we locate the driver of it—although we 
ain’t succeeded in doin’ it yet.” 

“I see. And the motive, you think-” 

“There’s possible motives a-plinty, and we’re already 
in a fair way to establish thot wan or two of thim are 
more than possibilities. In the first place, there’s 
jealousy.” 

“I can’t see that. Even assuming that Leighton is in 
love with Miss Willoughby-” 

“In love, or its equivalint. At least there’s no doubt 
but thot he’s been courtin’ her, as witness the tiligram 
he sint last night, which I’ve seen a copy of.” 

“Why do you make the distinction, ‘or its equiva¬ 
lent’?” asked Dee Dee, surprised. 

“Hmm. Well, maybe there’s men thot can love two 
gurrls at wan and the same time—’tis said we’re polyga¬ 
mous animals by nature. But I dunno.” 

“You surely don’t mean that he-?” 

“Sure and I do, thin. It’s not pretty talk, but ’tis a 
fact thot Leighton’s been chasin’ a light o’ love, up to a 
few days ago, at least. Accordin’ to James he broke 
off wid her less than a week back, which would coincide 
wid Miss Anne’s return from college. Two or three 
nights ago she showed up at his rooms instead of his 
goin’ to hers, and a rare row they had. The invaluable 
James was in the nixt room and overheard the whole of 
it. Leighton insisted thot he was t’rough wid her for 
good—thot no more money she’d git out of him. She 
bawled and threatened, both, but little good it did her. 
Now assumin’ thot he made the break in order to take 
up wid Miss Willoughby, seriously, and then he learned 





188 


“ DEE DEE” 


thot Sommes was also after her—a man who could have 
bought and sold him a hundred times over—why 
shouldn’t he have been jealous, I’m askin’ you, Doc?” 

“For the simple reason that Miss Willoughby hadn’t 
the slightest intention of marrying her guardian,” 
responded Dee Dee, promptly. 

“So? Well, maybe she told you thot; but would 
Leighton have been likely to know it? Women have 
done the like of it before and Sommes was a big catch, 
you know.” 

The Rector felt himself flush as he realized that he 
had inadvertently blurted out some of the story which 
Anne had imparted to him in confidence. As quickly as 
possible he changed the subject by asking, “Well, leaving 
that out of consideration, what are the other possible 
motives which you and Morrissy have in mind?” 

“Money, for wan—and it’s wan of the three prime 
raysons why men commit crime. We’ve already good 
cause to belave thot he’s needin’ it bad. And there’s at 
least two chances thot he knew about Sommes havin’ 
made a new will lavin’ his fortune to the gurrl. In the 
first place, Brother Tom may have spilled all the beans 
and told him about it. And in the sicond, I’ve dis¬ 
covered thot Sommes kept it in an unlocked private box 
in the office safe to which Leighton had access. The 
lawyer who drew it brought it to the office to be executed, 
and it was witnessed by three members of the force. You 
know how news gits around in such a place and can roll 
your own wid thot material.” 

Dee Dee nodded. “But you are assuming that he is 
financially embarrassed, whereas I’ve always under- 


A SPARK TO TINDER 


189 


stood that he was well-to-do—a man of independent 
means.” 

“I know. He puts on a fine front, and all thot, but 
you can take it from me thot there is a canker worrm 
widin the damask rose—as the poet ses—although how 
large it’s grown we’ve yet to discover. James ses that 
his ex-boss spent money like wather on the skirt he’s 
been kapin’—beggin’ your pardon for the iniligint lan¬ 
guage. Thin I’ve struck up an acquaintance wid wan 
of the stenographers who worrks for the firm—as pretty 
a little colleen as iver came over from County Clair, 
she is—and she told me thot Leighton has lately been 
plungin’ heavy in the market, on his own account, and 
havin’ divilishly bad luck, too. Of course this is all 
hearsay ividence, but we’ll git the right of it before long, 
and I’ll bet dollars to plugged nickels thot he’s fair up 
against it, financially. I’ll even go so far as to say thot 
I’ve a hunch he’s been up to some monkey business wid 
the firm’s accounts, as well, and if that proves to be the 
case there’s anither rayson for his wantin’ Sommes out 
of the way.” 

Dee Dee laughed almost heartily. “Now you are 
letting your imagination run away with you, old chap. 
You might about as well say, ‘If it turns out that he 
fired the fatal shot we’ll prove that he was the 
murderer.”’ 

Daley joined in the laughter, but quickly became 
serious and insistent again. 

“Jest the same, I belave thot all I’ve said is the truth 
and thot we’ll prove it, give us time. Leighton seems 
pretty sure thot he stands right wid Miss Willoughby, 


190 


“DEE DEE ” 


’twould seem, and in bumpin’ off Sommes he would be 
killin’ two birrds wid wan stone. Annyhow you’ll have 
to admit it’s a likely lead and wan thot’s got to be fol¬ 
lowed up. ‘Little drrops of wather, little grains of sand, 
make the mighty ocean and the pleasant land’—and little 
clues like these make a grand case in the ind. 

“Thin there’s this ‘accidint’ of his, thot’s conveniently 
kapin’ him away from the city. A mighty phoney sound 
it has to me. We’ve already wired to the local sheriff to 
look into the matter and make us a report. Widin 
twinty-four hours we’ll be knowin’ more about thot” 

“Of course all of these matters must be sifted to the 
bottom, as you say, Daley. I’ll admit that the thing— 
horrible as it would be—is at least a possibility, but it 
doesn’t seem to me that you’ve shown enough yet, to 
make it a probability. And I should hate to believe it 
true.” 

“But why? Ain’t you as anxious as anny wan to 
discover who murdered Sewell Sommes? Sure you are! 
Thin-” 

“Naturally. But— Well, I was thinking of Miss 
Willoughby. She cares for Leighton-” 

“And the sooner she stops carin’ for him the better, sez 
I. In theory he may be a high-toned gintleman, wid all 
thot implies, but we, at least, know a-plinty about him 
to prove thot he’s not fit mate for the likes of her—the 
swate young thing. Maybe she has a crush on him, 
now, but she’s a kid and will git over it. Sure, as her 
frind you’d ought to be hopin’ thot she’ll marry a better 
man than him, regardless of whether he’s guilty in this 
case, or not.” 




A SPARK TO TINDER 


191 


Thus Daley, innocently and in the friendliest spirit, 
rubbed salt into the fresh wound, and Dee Dee winced. 
Still, there was truth in what the detective said. Enough 
had been clearly established to make a marriage between 
Anne and Daniel Leighton abhorrent, and it might become 
his personal and painful duty to prevent such a consum¬ 
mation, if possible, regardless of the cost to himself. 
But how should he go about such a difficult and delicate 
task? He could not very well volunteer, or even hint at, 
the bald facts disclosed by Daley without putting him¬ 
self in the role of scandalmonger and officious meddler. 
His opposition would seem to her wholly unwarranted, he 
felt, and it might only serve to fan the flame of her love. 
He knew the truth which lay in that trite aphorism. At 
every step his own path grew more difficult. 

Yet, despite his protest to Daley, Dee Dee knew in his 
heart of hearts that these new disclosures and supposi¬ 
tions were merely strengthening the suspicion which had 
already taken root in his own mind and which he had 
been unable to dislodge. He tried to believe that he had 
listened and weighed the circumstantial evidence with a 
judicial mind, but the disturbing fear kept insinuating 
itself into his mind that perhaps he had not heard it 
impartially and that if he were to admit the truth a 
secret wish had been the father of his thought that per¬ 
haps Leighton was the guilty man. Certainly his imagi¬ 
nation had begun to take that course the night before; 
the new rills of evidence opened up by Daley had merely 
augmented the current. Now he found himself striving 
to struggle against the swollen flood, but it seemed like 
opposing Fate. It bore him on and on—whither? 


192 


“DEE DEE ” 


After a little more casual conversation the police officer 
departed, and Dee Dee was really sorry to have him 
leave, for there was something amusing about his boyish¬ 
ness and transparent honesty even when he was adding 
to the listener’s distress. It was apparent that with all 
his crudities he had a good brain in the making. 

The Rector’s work had been piling up ahead of him, 
and now he re-entered the study and shut the door, 
determined to concentrate his thoughts until luncheon 
time on certain parochial problems and then on his Sun¬ 
day evening sermon. He succeeded to some extent with 
the first self-imposed task, but not with the second. 
Usually he had little trouble in selecting a text from 
which to develop his message, but now the only ideas 
which kept recurring in his brain were utterly impos¬ 
sible ones; and out of the hundreds of scriptural pas¬ 
sages at his command, the only ones which his thoughts 
seemed able to produce were such as these: “For out of 
the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders —“How 
is the faithful city become a harlot I It was full of 
judgment, righteousness lodged in it, but now mur¬ 
derers”; “He was a murderer from the beginning, and 
abode not in the truth, for the truth was not in him.” 

With an exclamation of disgust he determined to put 
an end to this repellent line of thought by making use 
of an oft-employed appeal to Chance—or Divine guid¬ 
ance, as the case might be. Accordingly he opened his 
Bible at random and placed his finger on a passage. It 
happened to be from the First Corinthians, eleventh 
chapter, and read: “But if a woman have long hair it is 
a glory to her.” 


A SPARK TO TINDER 


193 


Dee Dee groaned and then gave a hopeless laugh. All 
things were conspiring against him, for how could he 
hope to compose a sermon when now his thoughts were 
forced to dwell on the other side of the same picture— 
Anne, as he had momentarily glimpsed her on the previ¬ 
ous night, with her wonderful long hair—her crowning 
glory—braided and hanging down over the banister rail¬ 
ing above him? 

Then came a new interruption in the form of Mary, 
the maid, who handed him an envelope which, she said, 
had just been delivered by a messenger boy. 

“Now what?” thought the man as he turned it over to 
read the superscription. 


CHAPTER II 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 

Dee Dee had seen that handwriting only a few times 
before but he instantly recognized the dainty yet char¬ 
acterful chirography as Anne Willoughby’s. It gave him 
a peculiar anticipatory thrill which instantly merged into 
foreboding. Instinct—or the sixth sense—warned him 
what was coming even before he had the letter open. 

It ran thus: “Dear David”—she had started to write 
“Doctor” and altered it into his given name. 

“I don’t want you to think that I have been an eaves¬ 
dropper, but I came back from my morning walk while 
Doctor Barrows was in the study with you and in try¬ 
ing to keep Deedon from pushing the door open and 
interrupting your conference I could not help overhear¬ 
ing a little of what he said. It hurt, David, but I know 
that it was true. I think that I should have realized the 
situation yesterday, if I had not been so upset. Please, 
please forgive me for having unintentionally placed you 
in a position where you might be criticized, after you 
have been so good to me! 

“Tom, Newey and I talked the matter over together 
and agreed that it would be much better for all con¬ 
cerned, if we should go somewhere else while we were 
deciding about the future. I would have explained it to 
you, but found that you were still engaged with visitors. 
Then I decided that it would be better to write, any way. 

194 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


195 


Knowing you, I was afraid that you would try to dis¬ 
suade us, and that would have made it harder to run 
away from your hospitable home. Yet I am sure that 
this is the wise thing, under the circumstances. I hope 
that you won’t misunderstand our action, for you must 
realize something of how greatly I appreciate all that you 
have done for both Tom and me—your wonderful, self- 
sacrificing kindness at a time when the bottom seemed 
to have dropped completely out of my little world. I 
just can’t put my feelings into words. 

“Newey and I plan to remain in this pleasant, secluded 
hotel for a few days, at least. I have telephoned Uncle 
Sewell’s lawyers and they approve. Tom is to stay at 
Mr. Leighton’s apartment, since he—Dan, I mean—put 
it at his disposal if he should want to use it. 

“I hope that I shall have an opportunity to see you 
after the funeral, tomorrow, thank you personally for 
what you have done for me, and perhaps also talk over 
with you such tentative plans as we may, by that time, 
have been able to formulate, for both Tom and I realize 
how true and dependable a friend we have in you. That 
means everything, in this world, doesn’t it, David? But 
please do not try to see us and make us alter our minds. 
I am sure that this is the best plan. 

“Your dear mother was also out when we ran away 
and I will ask you to give her my love and explain to 
her. She will understand. 

“Sincerely, 

“Anne Willoughby. 

“P.S. I almost forgot to send my love to Deedon, too. 

“A.” 


196 


“ DEE DEE ” 


While he was reading the letter, Dee Dee kept his 
hand as steady as a rock, but, on concluding, his power¬ 
ful fist clenched convulsively on it, crumpling it. Need¬ 
less to say, his anger was not against the epistle or its 
writer; but if the reverend gentleman whose criticism 
had inspired Anne’s flight could have been present at 
the moment he would certainly have been shocked 
beyond words by the violence of his assistant’s action 
and the expression on his face, even if his own neck had 
not felt a sympathetic constriction. The “minister” was 
again momentarily lost in the “man,” for although the 
note had been couched in the language of restraint he 
had been able to read much between the lines. He 
knew how badly the girl had been hurt. 

Instinct urged him to disregard Anne’s plea and to 
hasten at once to the hotel whose name appeared on the 
letter head, but after a brief, bitter struggle, reason pre¬ 
vailed. It would not be fair to her. Her mind was 
clearly made up, and even though he might argue that 
the basis upon which she had made her decision was 
untenable, a re-opening of the subject would only cause 
her further distress. The damage was done. 

Dee Dee decided that, for the time being, he would 
hold himself down to writing an acknowledgment and 
although it was to be merely a brief expression of his 
regret that she had felt it necessary to leave, because of 
what was really a misapprehension, and a simple state¬ 
ment that he understood perfectly how she felt, he spent 
many minutes and wasted several sheets of paper before 
it was written—and then not to his satisfaction. He 
added as a postscript that we would surely see her on the 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


197 


morrow, in accordance with her suggestion—wherein he 
erred materially. 

This done and a messenger to bear it to Anne tele¬ 
phoned for, Dee Dee picked up the crumpled letter from 
the desk, smoothed it out painstakingly, folded it and 
placed it—almost with reverence—in a little locked 
drawer. Then, less able than ever to concentrate his 
mind on the preparation of a sermon, he called Deedon 
and until the hour for luncheon, and after, walked 
furiously with only his milling thoughts and the silent 
canine chum for company. 

Late that same afternoon came another message— 
from a small up-State country town where all of the 
Rector’s boyhood vacations had been spent. His 
mother’s only surviving brother was desperately ill and 
begged that he might see them both before he died. 
Family ties were so strong, the request so pressing, that 
Dee Dee had no other thought than one of compliance. 
Within an hour Mrs. Deane and he were on the train, 
and he had had barely time to telephone an explanation 
of the circumstances to Doctor Barrows and leave a 
similar message with Miss Newell to be delivered to Anne 
—the girl and Tom being out for a walk. Miss Newell 
expressed her deep sympathy and promised to watch over 
Anne’s welfare like a mother. Although Dee Dee knew 
that she would have done so in any event, the mere ver¬ 
bal promise eased his mind. He felt that he could de¬ 
pend on this quiet, adoring little woman whose heart was 
so bound up in her “baby.” Neither mentioned the new 
development or its cause, except by implication when 
Miss Newell said, “I didn’t have a chance this morning to 


198 


“DEE DEE ” 


thank you and Mrs. Deane for what you did for my baby, 
yesterday, but I do so from the bottom of my heart. If 
you could only know how very dear Anne is to her ‘Newey’ 
you’d realize how I feel—how happy I am that she had 
such friends as you and your mother to come to her aid. 
God knows that she needed comfort, yesterday, and I’ll 
never be able to forget that I wasn’t with her during those 
terrible twenty-four hours before she was released.” 

A sob came over the wire like a period to the sentence 
and a click indicated that she had hung up the receiver 
hastily. 

Dee Dee did not get home again until late in the after¬ 
noon on the day after the morrow. The trip had been a 
trying one, productive of a mixed cargo, for although his 
uncle had rallied slightly he had not long to live—a few 
days or a week at the most. It had turned out that he 
particularly wanted to see them to tell them about the 
will which he was leaving, whereby Mrs. Deane was to 
receive a modest but comfortable income for life, the 
principal of the trust fund to be her son’s upon her 
death, and Dee Dee was to have the lovely old home¬ 
stead and the smiling acres which surrounded it. Thus 
sincere gratitude and grief commingled in their feelings 
and both were speedily to be relegated to the background 
of Dee Dee’s thoughts for the first thing which caught 
his eye upon going into his study was a second envelope 
inscribed in Anne’s unmistakable handwriting. 

He picked it up eagerly, but before he could open it 
the telephone at his elbow demanded his attention. 

Over the wire came Daley’s picturesque brogue. “Thot 
you, Doc? I’ve tried to git you siveral times this after- 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


199 


noon, and I’m glad to see you back—figuratively spakin’. 
We missed you at the wake—the funeral, I mane, yister- 
day. Was I there? Sure and I was, thin. More nor 
wance a murderer has been apprehended, attindin’ the 
services over his late victim through morbid curiosity, 
and we weren’t passin’ up anny bets. Nothin’ doin’ in 
the prisint instance, howiver, and for a very good rayson, 
I’m thinkin’. And you missed an iligint and iloquent 
eulogy on the dear departed, who’d ‘been cut off in the 
full flower of his abundant life.’ I niver knew before that 
stock-brokerin’ was such a praiseworthy profession.” 

Dee Dee could not help smiling to himself at the Irish 
mimicry of Doctor Barrow’s words and voice. 

“I had a bit of a chat wid Miss Anne, after, and she 
bears me no malice. Sure ’tis a foine gurrl she is, and as 
sinsible as she is pretty—which is sayin’ a mouthful for 
her intellect. She looked mighty swate in her sort of 
semi-mournin’, which no wan could take offince at, either 
way. I might add thot she spoke highly of yoursilf—but 
thot ain’t what I called up to tell you, howsomiver.” 

“Glad to hear it, nevertheless,” responded Dee Dee. 

“And who, wearin’ pants, wouldn’t be? But I’ve got a 
bit more news raygardin’ a certain gintleman whose Chris¬ 
tian name is the same as my own—the haythen. And it’s 
a case of ivery little bit helpin’. What’s thot? No, we 
ain’t located the taxi driver thot took him there, yet, but 
we’ve found the wan thot brought him back—or drove 
him to the daypot, I should say. He ses thot he didn’t 
pick up the fare in the immediate neighborhood, but 
’twas widin five minutes’ walk of it. Yis, there’s no 
misv&kin’ the description. ’Twas L. right enough, and 


200 


“DEE DEE ” 


him as white as a sheet and apparently half off his nut 
wid fright or excitement—the man thought he was sick. 
L.’s directions were to drive like the divil was after thim, 
though ’twas only an aisy tin minute ride to the station, 
and they had better than twinty to make the wan o’clock 
train. Thot fixes the toime pretty close, you’ll notice.” 

“It would seem so,” Dee Dee answered, and experi¬ 
enced a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yis, and thot’s only wan thing. The sicond is thot 
we’ve got difinite proof thot he has been speculatin’ and 
losin’ heavy. It’s now a safe bet thot widin the last 
six months he’s about claned himself out of his own pri¬ 
vate fortune—tryin’ to make two berries grow where 
wan grew before. At thot he didn’t have so much to lose. 
’Tis a grand bluff he’s been t’rowin’, these past few 
years, if the probate records of his mother’s estate which 
he and a married sister of his jointly inherited, are to be 
belaved. Little enough he had aside from thot camp up 
in the Maine woods, and his income from the brokerage 
business. 

“And mintion of the camp brings me to the third thing 
I have in mind. We’ve recaved a reply to our wire to the 
Sheriff up there. Wait ’til I read it to you, mintionin’ no 
names. ’Tis this: Tn answer to your inquiry would say 
thot flivver carryin’ L. from station to camp at Silver 
Lake in slight accident Tuesday. L. sprained ankle 
jumpin’ but injury minor wan. Now able to get about 
widout trouble.’ Git thot?” 

“Yes. And the answer is-?” 

“The answer is thot I’m planning to start northwards, 
tomorrow mornin’, on a bit of a man hunt—wid a war- 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


201 


rant in my inside pocket. I may have to git another 
wan, there, but I’m goin’ to be prepared for whichiver 
way the dog jumps.” 

This blunt announcement, although not unexpected, 
came as a shock to the Rector. There was something 
final about it. It seemed to close the last door. For an 
instant he made no answer. Then he said, uneasily, 
“But surely you don’t intend to make an arrest on no 
more positive evidence than that, Daley?” 

“Oh, not necessarily, although ’tis sufficient, in my 
opinion. But annyhow I’ll have it in reserve whin I’m 
havin’ a heart-to-heart talk wid his lordship, the which 
I intind. He’s got some tall explainin’ to do, and if I 
don’t like the sound of his explanations he’s goin’ to 
take a ride back to the city in my agreeable company. 
See?” 

“I do. Well, the Inspector’s the boss, and I suppose 
that he would not send you without good reason. 
But-” 

“Oh, sure. There’s always a-plinty of ‘buts’ in cases 
like this wan; we can’t always be sure before we lape. 
Besides, you know thot sometimes fools butt in where 
angels fear to tread, as the poet ses. Maybe I’m a 
fool-” 

“I hope that you are not insinuating that Vm an 
angel,” laughed Dee Dee. 

“Well, annyway I certainly ain’t insinuatin’ thot 
you’re afraid, and I was jest about to ask you to make 
the trip wid me and maybe try the ‘sixth’ degree on the 
suspect. You might be able to get a hint from his un¬ 
conscious mind.” 




202 


“DEE DEE ” 


The Rector smiled, but was serious enough when he 
answered. 

“You’ll have to count me out in this instance, I guess 
—at least until you get him back here, if you do, and I 
can ‘screen’ my interest in the case. Anyway you should 
remember that I am apparently a negative sort of detec¬ 
tive. I’ve about concluded that my mission is establish¬ 
ing innocence rather than guilt—as becomes a minister. 
The latter can be left more properly to you bloodhounds 
of the law. Just the same, I thank you for the compli¬ 
ment and if anything further comes up before you leave 
I hope that you’ll call me again.” 

“Sure, I’ll be plazed to, Doc.” 

“I suppose that I should wish you luck, but I’m not 
quite case-hardened enough for that, yet. It’s a terrible 
thing to have to think, even, that a man whom you know 
personally may have been guilty of such a crime.” 

“It is, thot. Well, ivery murderer has some honest 
frinds, I suppose, and some thot grieve for him. I guess 
I’ve delivered all my message—Oh, no, there’s jest wan 
thing more, the which you’ve probably heard already, 
namely thot the Coroner’s jury brought in the usual 
verdict of ‘By person or persons unknown,’ yisterday 
mornin’. Of course we didn’t put in anny of this new 
ividence. Well, I’ll be sayin’ goodbye, for the prisint.” 

“Goodbye, Daley.” 

For a moment or two the Rector sat motionless, with 
his eyes fixed on the beyond and his thoughts at variance 
though all of them were disturbed. Then his gaze fell 
slowly and focused on the letter which lay before him. 
He shook himself mentally, opened it and drew out two 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


203 


enclosures. The first was written by Anne and he read 
the opening sentence casually. But the second brought 
him out of his chair as though he had been catapulted by 
the seat. The letter, dated at six o’clock the previous 
afternoon, ran thus: 

“Dear David: 

“I was so sorry to miss you, yesterday, and to hear 
from Newey of the sorrowful errand which had taken 
you and your mother from the city, ,4 s it happened I 
was particularly hoping to see you after the funeral, in 
order to tell you about the plan which we have suddenly 
made, which is to leave this evening for Silver Lake in 
Maine, and to stay there, as the guests of Mr. Leighton 
—perhaps it would be better if I had said of Mr. 
Leighton’s sister, Mrs. Moore—for a week or two.” 

It was when he had reached this point that the reader 
started up, and a wavering black veil seemed momen¬ 
tarily to fall before his sight. It would have been no 
different if he had been dealt a stunning physical blow 
between the eyes. He cleared his vision by seizing his 
temples violently with the fingers of his free hand and 
then steadied himself by gripping the edge of the desk. 
As he read on he became more and more conscious of 
the tragic incongruity of the situation, for relief and 
frankly happy anticipation showed in every line of the 
letter, yet it made him almost frantic. Things could not 
possibly have fallen out worse, it seemed to him. 

“The invitation was not entirely unexpected, for Dan 
had suggested that Tom and I join them at the camp for 


204 


“DEE DEE ” 


a little visit after college closed, and he had told us that 
his sister—whom I think you have met at the house — 
would write us, but when their joint letter arrived, urg¬ 
ing us to come at once, it seemed little less than a God¬ 
send; an ideal solution of the problem as to our imme¬ 
diate future. The city naturally holds a horror which 
cannot easily be banished from my mind, but if any¬ 
thing can make me forget, it will be that wild, quiet, 
lovely spot, of which I have the pleasantest recollections, 
for we were there once before. 

“And 1 will be in the company of old, congenial 
friends, too, besides having Newey with me. The so- 
called ‘camp’ is quite a sizable establishment and Tom, 
Miss Newell and I are to have a separate cottage to our¬ 
selves. 

“Of course we shall all be prepared to return imme¬ 
diately in the event of our being needed in connection 
with the tragedy. Tom and I haven’t forgotten that we 
are in your charge and that you will be held responsible 
for us. I hesitated some time before deciding to leave 
the city without first consulting you, but Mary could 
not tell me when you would return, and Dan fairly 
begged us to come at once. You knew that he had been 
hurt and must be terribly lonesome, laid up in such a 
remote spot with almost no companionship, poor fellow. 
1 am afraid that his injury is more serious than he tried 
to have us believe and his request that we come and help 
cheer him up was a rather piteous one. So we finally 
decided to go tonight. 

“I felt certain that under all the circumstances you 
would approve and be glad that this perfect solution of 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 205 


our housing problem presented itself at just this time. 
Silver Lake is such an ideal spot for the healing of hurt 
souls, and we had to go somewhere, you know. I couldn't 
even bear to think of returning to the old home, yet — 
if, indeed, I ever do. With the consent of the Executors, 
who persist in regarding me as virtually its owner, we 
have given the servants a fortnight's vacation with pay 
and dear old Williams is to attend to closing the place 
for that period, at least. Then — well, I shall, I suppose, 
have to make a final decision and am counting on you to 
help and advise me. I don't know what to do. 

“How I wish that you might take a little vacation and 
join us at the lake I There is a delightful little Inn about 
a mile away from the camp and I am sure that you would 
love it there. Tom and I would be delighted if you 
could come, and I am sure that Dan would be equally 
pleased. 

“By the way, I am enclosing a note to you from Tom. 
He shows how much he trusts me by having left it un¬ 
sealed, but I have not read it, even though—being a 
daughter of Eve —■/ have been sorely tempted. There 
seems to be some mystery about it, or perhaps it is only 
my imagination which causes me to think that Tom is 
personally worried over something. If it happens that 
he has taken you into his confidence I am glad. I also 
can't help feeling that it will be a good thing for him 
to get away from some of his city associates and into the 
back woods for awhile. 

“Sincerely your friend, 

“Anne. 

“P.S. I really mean what I have written about your 


206 


“ DEE DEE ” 


coming to Silver Lake. Do come if you possibly can. 

U P.P.S. I wish that you might have conducted the 
funeral service for poor Uncle Sue. I am afraid that 1 
don’t like Dr. B. very well—he is so unctuous.” 

Perhaps it would be using too strong a word to say 
that the Rector was “stunned” by the news contained 
in Anne’s letter. Certainly it left his thoughts in a 
chaotic condition, however. Fortune had played another 
mad trick upon the girl. In all innocence and grati¬ 
tude she had accepted an invitation—“heaven-sent,” she 
called it—to spend a fortnight at a lonely forest camp 
with the man for whose arrest as the murderer of her 
guardian a warrant was about to be issued. And 
Leighton’s purpose in getting his sister to invite her 
there, playing upon her sympathies with hints of a 
serious injury—when his hurt amounted to practically 
nothing—was only too obvious to Dee Dee. 

In truth the elements of an old-fashioned melodrama 
—already once commented upon by the girl herself with 
a pitiful smile at her own suggestion—were multiplying 
prodigiously. “Only,” thought Dee Dee, “it is all true 
—fact, not fiction.” He once more endeavored to clear 
his brain by pressing his temples with both hands, and 
suddenly uttered a harsh laugh. Even his action was 
what he would have termed “melodramatic”—motion- 
picture stuff. The thing was absurd. Yet it was real. 
There was Anne’s letter with its venomous news. She 
had actually gone to join Leighton, perhaps prepared 
for the inevitable proposal and ready to welcome it as 
the final happy solution of her difficulties. And Daley’s 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 


207 


message was still ringing in the recesses of his mind. 

While thoughts of this nature were still pursuing one 
another through his brain and before he made any de¬ 
liberate attempt to consider the newly arisen situation 
calmly with a view to meeting it, the Rector mechanically 
opened the second enclosure and glanced it through. 
In fact he read it twice before he was able to concen¬ 
trate his mind upon it and grasp its purport. 

“Dear Doctor Deane,” it ran “I suppose that Anne 
has fully explained in her letter our reasons for running 
up to Dan's camp for a little while. It did not entirely 
surprise me that she was so willing to accept the invita¬ 
tion but it pleased me immensely, not only on my own 
account but an hers. It is just what she needs, after 
what she has had to go through the past few days, and 
I think that Dan can be relied upon to give her some¬ 
thing to think of which will make her forget the un¬ 
pleasant past. 

“For myself, I’m not sorry to put a bit more distance 
between her and my present Nemesis who goes by the 
name of Angus, at least until I can finally make up my 
mind just what to do in the matter. Remembering my 
promise, I am writing to let you know that the more I 
think about the matter the more convinced I become that 
my best way out lies in enlisting Dan's aid. As I told 
you, he'll be only too glad to assist. Of course I'll pay 
back the loan, eventually, and charge it up to ( experi- 
ience.' I hope that you won't think that I am going 
exactly contrary to your advice—I suppose that I am, 
but I can't see what objections there can be to this course 


208 


“DEE DEE ” 


of procedure, except the moral one that I’m sneaking out 
of trouble. However, you know my reason and that it 
isn f t because Vm afraid to take my medicine. 

“Sincerely, 

“Tom Willoughby” 

The mountain is sometimes momentarily eclipsed by 
the molehill. So it was, now, with Dee Dee. His mind 
feverishly centered upon this latest problem. Tom’s pro¬ 
posed action—which would inevitably give Leighton an 
added hold upon him and so, vicariously, upon Anne— 
simply must be forestalled. And an endeavor to prevent 
it would give him something to do, immediately. He 
had no plan of procedure in mind, but as a corollary to 
the general thought came the semi-realization that if he 
could, somehow, succeed in defeating the corrupt en¬ 
forcement agent’s blackmailing scheme it would supply 
him with just the excuse which he needed for further 
mixing in the affairs of the Willoughby family—although 
he did not then carry the thought to its logical conclu¬ 
sion. Sufficient unto the moment was the task thereof. 

Dee Dee very quickly dismissed from his mind the 
passing reflection that in trying to save Tom from pay¬ 
ing the penalty for his unlawful actions he might, him¬ 
self, be acting illegally. After all, he meant only to 
secure the note, if he could, and in so doing he would be 
rather punishing another law-breaker, than compounding 
a felony. Angus—so that was the fellow’s name!—would 
be prevented from further profiting, and if it should 
eventuate that Tom was thereby relieved from the legal 
consequences of his wrong-doing—well, it might be re- 


* 


THE CURRENT STRENGTHENS 209 


garded as a venial sin; the foolish act of an irresponsible 
college boy who had plenty of company, and who had 
already suffered salutary punishment for it, inflicted by 
his own conscience. Even a minister must, on occasion, 
condone a minor transgression if by so doing he can 
achieve a greater good. 

The Rector knew the name of Angus, since it had fre¬ 
quently appeared in the newspapers as that of a particu¬ 
larly zealous enforcer of the Eighteenth Amendment. 
He was even spoken of as a “Crusader.” Without any 
delay he telephoned to the office of the Federal Pro¬ 
hibition Director for the District and a moment later 
had made an engagement to call at Mr. Angus’ home 
early that evening. The gentleman would be only too 
delighted to talk with the Reverend Doctor Deane! 


CHAPTER III 


MULTUM IN PARVO 

History is built up out of recorded events, rather 
than thoughts, but often the really important thing is, 
in fact, the decision upon which the action is based. It 
may take hours, days, weeks to make, or be made in the 
twinkling of an eye, yet it is the true peg upon which 
history hangs. 

On Dee Dee’s sudden determination to make a per¬ 
sonal call on Angus, and the further decision which 
grew out of that interview, depended actions and out¬ 
comes of vital importance in several lives. He had a 
vague premonition that grave consequences might follow 
without guessing their logical—or illogical—end, and this, 
coupled with the realization that an unpleasant quarter 
hour was in prospect for him made him even more silent 
than usual during dinner. 

If Mrs. Deane noticed his absorption she probably 
ascribed it to the memory of what they had both been 
through, for her own thoughts were centered on the 
passing of her brother, the loving provision which he had 
made for both of them and what it might mean, particu¬ 
larly to David. The annual amount of the bequest was 
not large, but at least it would mean something ap¬ 
proaching independence. David would be able to marry 
and she knew that he was in love with Anne. Her own 
mind’s eye saw none of the barriers which his imagina- 
210 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


211 


tion had erected. She, being a woman who had experi¬ 
enced the fullness of love, gave no thought to the fact 
that Anne was now an heiress, and she had no knowledge 
of the other impedimenta—her son’s masculine pride and 
the “Leighton” element in the affair. Dee Dee had spared 
her all this and, indeed, purposely refrained as yet 
from telling her that the girl had left the city, for he 
knew that when he did he would have to go further and 
explain the whole appalling situation. So, although she 
grieved for her brother, her thoughts were not altogether 
unhappy, feeling that a more complete happiness was in 
store for her son before long. Loving him as she did, it 
never entered her mind that Anne might refuse him, when 
he was ready to ask her. So, now and again, she looked 
at him with smiling eyes, never guessing that his quiet 
expression masked emotions of the most poignant kind 
—a torturing fire which blazed up in flames, now of 
anguish for the girl, now anger against Leighton, Sommes 
and Angus, and now hopeless love. 

Immediately after dinner Dee Dee told his mother 
that he had a brief call to make that evening, and taking 
Deedon along he started out to carry the war into the 
enemy’s own country, and that without having evolved 
any plan of campaign. A surprise attack might be suc¬ 
cessful; if not, he would have to rely upon the moment’s 
inspiration. He knew that he faced no pleasant or easy 
task, but strengthened himself with the thought that it 
was for Anne, and the realization that “Thrice armed is 
he who has his quarrel just.” 

It is unnecessary to set forth a lengthy description of 
the ensuing contest, which was itself brief. 


212 


“DEE DEE ” 


Mr. Angus was a large, impressive man who gave an 
impression of strength and honest stability, invaluable 
in his position. He also made a point of playing up 
to the Church, and ministers were his especial “meat”; 
but the Rector coolly ignored his proffered hand and the 
chair which he dragged forward effusively, for the visitor 
knew the value of keeping his feet while attacking, and 
he meant to waste no time or words. The announce¬ 
ment of his purpose in calling was to be an ultimatum, 
and stated succinctly. Without any particular purpose 
he had brought Deedon with him into the apartment, and 
the dog took his stand close by his side. Even though his 
thoughts were engrossed with the errand upon which he 
had come, Dee Dee was aware of the animal’s significant 
behavior, and his mind momentarily reverted to the state¬ 
ment which he had made, the preceding morning, to 
Inspector Morrissy. For now the dog unquestionably 
sensed his master’s mood and also evidenced his distrust 
of the stranger by studiously avoiding his attempts to pat 
him, keeping his head averted, his body tensed and ears 
alternately laid back and cocked uncertainly. 

Mr. Angus had promptly launched a stereotyped state¬ 
ment as to his pleasure at being honored with a call from 
a valued ally—a militant Minister, who was well known 
to stand shoulder to shoulder with the forces of the 
Law in fighting for the Great Cause—and it was at this 
point that Dee Dee interrupted and sprung his mine, 
saying: 

“Quite so, Mr. Angus. I cm a man who stands for 
the honest enforcement of all law, including Prohibition. 
That is why I am here, in a sense, but it isn’t to discuss 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


213 


the major question. I came in reference to a single 
instance which requires no discussion—namely to secure 
from you a promissory note which was given you by one 
Thomas Willoughby, by mistake , a week or so ago.” 

The other’s mouth dropped open. His face, naturally 
ruddy, turned a brick red and then a mottled purple and 
he unsteadily grasped the back of a chair as though for 
support. All this took only an instant. Then he re¬ 
covered himself and in well simulated surprise announced 
that he had not the slightest idea what the Doctor 
meant. 

“As a matter of fact you know perfectly well, sir,” 
retorted Dee Dee, his ire still further stirred by this 
palpable lie. “There is no need of my wasting time con¬ 
vincing you that I know the whole sordid story. All I 
want is that note!” He took a step forward and stretched 
out his hand. 

Angus’ bearing underwent another abrupt change, for 
—paradoxical as it seems—fear often makes a coward 
courageous, temporarily. And he was certainly fright¬ 
ened. He tried profane blustering. No longer was 
the Rector a “valued ally” but a damned meddler who 
ought to be arrested. And when he found that Dee Dee 
would neither argue nor show excitement on his side, 
he took one threatening step towards him, with his big 
fist clenched and raised. The insinuation against his 
honesty, the attack on his honor, called for immediate 
avenging, or retraction. But the Rector neither retracted 
nor retreated. His own gorge rose and his muscles 
tingled with a desire to have it out, physically, with the 
crook whom he knew that he could pummel unmercifully, 


214 


“ DEE DEE ” 


in spite of the fact that Angus outweighed him by many 
pounds and years before had been on the police force. 
But it was neither seeming nor necessary for him to result 
to fisticuffs in the matter. At the other’s first hostile 
gesture Deedon had changed into a frozen fury, crouched 
with every muscle quivering, ears laid flat, ruff a-bristle 
and ivory fangs bared. The deep-throated growl which 
he uttered was enough to make the hearer’s hair stand 
on end, and Angus paled and fell back precipitously. 

Without taking his eyes off the man, Dee Dee reached 
down and grasped the dog’s collar firmly. Then he 
spoke in cold, even tones. 

“There’s neither sense nor use in blustering like that, 
Angus. I know all the facts, and I’m acting on behalf 
of young Willoughby and all his family. He gave and 
you took a bribe. The note is worthless and you know 
it; except for the purpose of blackmail, of course, and 
you’re not going to get away with that! Don’t inter¬ 
rupt, sir! It isn’t a question of his having broken the 
law or your sending him to jail. I’m not concerned with 
his guilt, just now, but with yours . He’ll take his medi¬ 
cine, if necessary, but however that may be, you’re done. 
I know the Director very well, and you and I are going 
to him, together, unless I have that note in one minute 
and also your promise to quit the service. You should 
go to jail as a bribe-taker, and I can procure witnesses 
enough to send you there—in a case like this I’m pretty 
sure that those idiotic college boys would be granted 
immunity if they appeared against you—but for the sake 
of innocent parties I’m willing to compromise with justice 
to the extent of letting you off in that respect, this time, 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


215 


if you do as I say. Come, I’m waiting for that note.” 

“You’re crazy! I haven’t any note,” shouted Angus, 
in a last effort to save his face, although it was obvious 
that he knew the game was up. 

“That’s a lie! You’ve not only got it, but it’s where 
you can lay your hands on it this minute,” retorted Dee 
Dee, for the other’s excited mind flashed its message, and 
the Rector knew, as surely as though he had seen it with 
his own eyes, that the note was reposing in a tin box 
locked in a drawer of the desk in front of which Angus 
stood. The mental picture which he had received was as 
clear as an X-ray photograph. 

The other still hesitated, with his hands alternately 
closing and unclosing nervously. Dee Dee stepped past 
him and lifted the telephone from its place on the desk. 
Then, with his hand ready to lift off the receiver, he 
added, “I’ll give you just thirty seconds to make up 
your mind. If at the end of that time you haven’t agreed 
I’ll call police headquarters and get my friend, Inspector 
Morrissy, to connect me with the Federal Director for 
the District. I shall then tell him enough of the circum¬ 
stances to convince him that my request that he dispatch 
a United States Marshal here at once to serve as an 
escort for us to his home, is a reasonable one. It’s up to 
you, for I’m perfectly willing to let him hear my story 
and then draw his own conclusions as to whether you are 
innocent or guilty. No, it won’t do you any good to lose 
your head and try to clear out. On guard , Deedonl” 

Of course it was nine-tenths bluff, but Dee Dee had 
sized up his man correctly, but—with the exception of 
Mr. Angus’ parting remarks which need not be made a 


216 


“ DEE DEE 


part of this record—that was the last word spoken during 
the short but intense interview. Three minutes later the 
Rector was once more on the sidewalk, with the promis¬ 
sory note, cancelled by tearing, safely stowed in his 
pocketbook and the glow of a well-earned victory filling 
his heart. The first important battle had been fought 
and won, but—brief as it had been—Dee Dee realized 
that it had taken something out of him and left him sur¬ 
prisingly brain-weary. 

Physical exercise would do him good, he felt. The dog, 
too, needed it after two days of confinement in the house 
and yard, so he determined to walk home. And walking 
brought clearer thought. He now had in his possession 
the thing which would make it unnecessary for Tom to 
borrow from Leighton, and the boy must be informed of 
the fact as speedily as possible. He might telegraph; but 
would it not be better to see and discuss the changed 
situation with him in person? Anne had urged him to 
join them at Silver Lake, Daley was going there on the 
morning train and had already suggested that he accom¬ 
pany him. Why shouldn’t he accept the two-fold invita¬ 
tion and go along with the detective, not with any pur¬ 
pose of helping him prove Leighton guilty of Sommes’ 
murder, but so that he might be on hand and perhaps 
aid in softening the blow a little for Anne in case the 
man she loved should be arrested? 

The man she loved! The thought was like a knife 
stab. Dee Dee found himself clenching his teeth so 
hard together upon the mouthpiece of his pipe that the 
amber was splintered, and he realized that the emotion 
which had gripped him was seething hate for that man, 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


217 


not because he was his successful rival, but because he 
had won the girl’s virgin heart while he was playing a 
double game. The man was a cad, even if he managed 
to escape the frightful charge which now hung, like a 
Damoclean sword, over his head, suspended by a thread 
which was growing daily more tenuous. More often than 
not hatred injures and even destroys him who harbors 
it; but there are times when it is the only thing violent 
enough to heat the iron of the will, and hammer it 
into the steel of resolve. It had that effect in the 
present case. Every barrier which Dee Dee’s mind had 
built up between him and Anne suddenly turned into 
challenges—something to be broken down or surmounted. 
It was not now so much that he ached to have her him¬ 
self as it was that he had determined that Leighton 
should be prevented from marrying her. He would 
fight him for her, for her own sake. Perhaps—indeed 
probably—the crown which in romances always falls 
to the victor might never be his to wear, but he meant 
to see to it that the other man should not capture it. 
He would save Anne from the after-years of unhappi¬ 
ness which he knew would be in store for her, tied to 
Leighton, even if it meant giving, instead of saving, her 
pain temporarily. 

With this decision came restored calmness. His whole 
being felt suddenly rested, strengthened and eager to act 
immediately. The present path appeared clear before 
him, even though the end of it still lay hidden in the gray 
mists of uncertainty, and he felt impelled to hurry down 
it, instantly. But in this complex age a man cannot 
merely gird up his loins and set forth upon Adventure; 


218 


“ DEE DEE ” 


nor even simply saddle his steed, mount and ride, like 
Young Lochinvar. There were a number of things to 
be arranged first, and not a few preliminary problems 
to be solved before he slept that night. Dee Dee real¬ 
ized this and tried to concentrate on them, but his 
thoughts would persist in leaping the intervening space 
and time in anticipation of the various contingencies 
which might arise at the journey’s end. 

He could at least now count on Tom’s neutrality, be¬ 
cause of gratitude, in case he found it necessary to lock 
horns with the chum whom he regarded as a prospective 
brother-in-law. His task would be a fairly simple, if a 
trying, one, in case the detective made up his mind to 
arrest Leighton at once. Then no troublesome ques¬ 
tions need arise; he could appear naturally in the role of 
friend and comforter. But if Daley’s confident sus¬ 
picions fell to the ground and Leighton proved to be 
innocent, he would be placed in a difficult position and 
would need all the diplomacy which he could command. 
He could scarcely hope to meet such a situation in the 
manner in which he had met the one just ended. It was 
not to be expected that Leighton would surrender Anne 
as the prohibition agent had surrendered the note, merely 
on demand backed up by bluff. And if he refused, 
Dee Dee would be faced with the necessity of persuading 
Anne to throw him over, which would call for explana¬ 
tions and proofs, and he would appear in an unenviable 
light which would very likely turn the girl’s liking for 
him into loathing. The other possibility would be for 
him to confess his love to her, appearing as an open, if 
belated, rival, yet such a course would almost certainly 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


219 


cause her astonishment and perhaps strengthen Leigh¬ 
ton’s hand. There was no use in trying in advance to 
construct any definite plan of procedure, he told himself, 
at last. It must await the spur of the moment and God 
grant him the power to think quickly and wisely, then. 

With this unspoken, but sincere, prayer, the Rector 
dismissed the future from his mind and bent his thoughts 
upon the immediate present and the details to which he 
must attend that night if he were really to leave the city 
early on the morrow. He must advise Doctor Barrows 
of the fact that he would have to be absent from his post 
a few days longer, and arrange for a supply to fill his 
place on Sunday. The Doctor might prove inquisitive 
and perhaps offer some objection. “Well, let him!” 
thought Dee Dee, almost savagely, for at the time his 
sentiments towards his superior were hardly those of 
Christian love or charity in its modern sense. “I’m going 
through with this if it costs me my position and even my 
frock. It is the one vital thing in my life, now—and 
if Barrows doesn’t like it he can lump it.” In truth the 
“man” was mightily in ascendant over the “minister” 
for the time being, and his imaginary ultimatum—this 
headlong rush across the bridge before he came to it— 
held something of the boy, too. 

Then there was Daley to be notified of his change of 
intention; his railroad ticket and pullman seat to be pur¬ 
chased—which meant that he must get a check cashed, 
somehow; his bags to be packed; his mother told. Surely 
there was a full evening’s work before him! 

Yet Fate, having now arranged her pieces for the 
game’s final plays, graciously facilitated his immediate 


220 


“ DEE DEE ” 


moves to an extraordinary degree, placing three of the 
pawns directly in his homeward path. Men would call it 
a case of coincidences, but were they merely accidental 
happenings, or is it not possible that “All things by 
Immortal power, hiddenly, to each other linked are?” 

The first person into whom he ran, literally, was his 
friend, Bob Neville, just making for the entrance of his 
club. He linked arms with Dee Dee and insisted that he 
accompany him and describe all the recent developments, 
for the Rector had taken him into his confidence to a 
very considerable extent on the afternoon when he had 
visited the lawyers for the purpose of discussing Sommes’ 
affairs. He found himself only too glad to comply with 
the request. Like Tom Willoughby, he suddenly felt 
impelled to supply a vent to his surcharged feelings by 
talking, and once started he held nothing back from his 
old buddy. 

Captain Neville was an eager listener and when the 
story was concluded he burst out with, “You ministerial 
fraud, you! You may be a success alike at preaching and 
practicing, and regard yourself as wedded to your pro¬ 
fession, but in my opinion you’re a misfit. Your true 
natural bent, and inclination as well, for that matter, is 
for straightening out tangled life-skeins. And what’s 
more, you know it. Then why, in heaven’s name, confine 
yourself to the parish and the pulpit? Almost any one 
can hold down a clergyman’s job, it would seem—not 
meaning to cast any aspersions on your worthy profession 
—but, hang it all, you’re unique. You have special 
qualifications for acting as a psychic detective, a heart 
big enough to make you use that gift in the service of 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


221 


humanity and a brain keen enough to direct human 
destinies. It’s a positive crime for you not to de¬ 
vote-” 

Dee Dee threw up his hand with a shout of frank 
laughter, his friend was so vehement and in earnest. 

“Help! Have a heart, Bob,” he cried. “It’s delight¬ 
ful enough to be so flatteringly ‘advertised by our loving 
friends’—like a certain well-known baby food—but 
you’re letting your misguided enthusiasm run away with 
you. You’re making me out a sort of superman, while 
the fact is that I’m so distressingly fallible that I’m 
wholly at a loss how to proceed even in the present case, 
which means so much to me. Far from being a ‘director 
of destiny,’ I’m a mere puppet in its hands. That may 
sound rather pagan and I suppose that I should say that 
the Almighty has thrust me into this affair for some defi¬ 
nite reason. So I’m going to see it through, to the best 
of my strictly limited ability, although blessed if I can 
see through it, yet. I may even fail miserably, in 
furtherance of the Will which is beyond our limited ken 
—though God forbid.” 

“You won’t,” declared Neville, confidently. 

“Indeed I hope not. But regarding your crazy sug¬ 
gestion, be advised, my lay friend, that to be a humble 
servant of the Church is good enough for me, although 
I often doubt if I am good enough for it. The events 
of the past few days have shown me that if I were to be 
analyzed for human frailty I would show a high percent¬ 
age.” 

“Piffle!” his friend ejaculated with an utter lack of 
respect. “If wanting to marry a beautiful girl and see 



222 


“DEE DEE ” 


a beastly murderer ‘get his’ is showing human frailty to 
a degree that distresses a minister, thank God I am 
an ordinary sinful mortal. At least I can obey per¬ 
fectly natural impulses and not be kept awake nights by 
the pangs of conscience. Leighton’s clearly a bad egg, 
and judging from what you’ve just told me, it looks as 
though he were guilty—I’d take the case against him, on 
that evidence. I’d never thought of suspecting him , 
heretofore, but that is because there was nothing to con¬ 
nect him with the matter, in my mind, rather than be¬ 
cause I would have regarded him as incapable of com¬ 
mitting murder under such a combination of motives as 
you’ve outlined. I only know him slightly and in a way 
of business, but I’ve never cottoned to him. He impresses 
me as having a shifty eye.” 

“I dislike to admit it, but I feel the same way about 
him, Bob. The evidence is all circumstantial, to date, 
of course, but—well, I’m half-convinced that he did it. 
It’s a horrible thought, though.” 

“Sure.” Neville whistled softly for a moment. “Well, 
if it is ever proved, or even if he is arrested, it’ll kick 
up plenty of excitement in this burg, and excitement 
is the breath of our nostrils, nowadays. I’d give a hun¬ 
dred dollars to be able to go along with you and be pres¬ 
ent when, or if, you turn your mental X-ray on him. 
But I can’t.” 

“You can give me the hundred, nevertheless. I’m going 
to need it for travelling expenses—which demonstrates 
how far from superhuman I am. I hope your credit is 
good for that amount, here, and I’ll mail you my check as 
soon as I get back to the house.” 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


223 


“Oh, forget it! You’ll have a-plenty of other things to 
think about tonight. You can repay it when you get 
darned good and ready—or never, for all I care. I’ve got 
money in the bank, for a wonder, and what is a ‘cen¬ 
tury’ between us, old fellow?” 

Captain Neville pressed his chum’s arm affectionately 
and Dee Dee, understanding, said no more. Together 
they went from the lounge into the entrance lobby where 
the cashier had his headquarters, and while Bob was 
getting his check cashed the Rector glanced around 
casually. Almost the first person upon whom his gaze 
fell was the pompous and Reverend Doctor Barrows, 
standing nearby in conversation with one of their 
wealthier parishioners. On impulse he moved towards 
them, and as soon as Doctor Barrows perceived him, he 
turned with cordially outstretched hand. 

“My dear Deane,” he exclaimed. “I have just 
come from telephoning to your home and chatting with 
your dear mother. I was sorry—so very sorry to hear 
of her brother’s serious illness, but, alas, death in the 
sense of ‘passing on’, is the lot of all created things. 
However, I called you up to say that an old and very 
dear friend of mine—Rector Emeritus of a London 
church—is in the city and has agreed to preach for us 
at the evening service, if you have no objections.” 

“Quite the contrary, Doctor. As it happens, I was 
about to call you and ask permission to absent myself for 
a few days longer, on a matter of urgent importance. Of 

course I intended to arrange for a supply, but now-” 

“It is not at all necessary. We shall miss you, to be 
sure, but we’ll manage to get along, somehow. Yes, 


224 


“DEE DEE ” 


we’ll manage, somehow. Please give my best regards to 
your dear mother. Coming, Wilson. I’ll be right with 
you.” 

Bob Neville was obliged to depart to keep an evening 
engagement, and Dee Dee and Deedon continued their 
homeward course. But they had progressed only a few 
more blocks before they overtook a slowly strolling 
couple who chanced to be within the full radiance of an 
arc light, and the man recognized them as none other 
than Nora—Anne’s pretty Irish maid—and Daley. 

The girl was clinging to her escort’s arm and looking 
up under the brim of his rakish Panama hat with un¬ 
mistakable adoration which caused Dee Dee to smile 
and mentally revise the Gilbertian statement as to “a 
policeman’s life.” At least on occasion it could be a 
happy one. 

When, coming abreast of them, he paused, raised his 
hat and said “Good evening” Daley stammered and grew 
red until the color in his cheeks almost matched that in 
his hair. Not so Nora, however. She showed no em¬ 
barrassment and returned his greeting with a merry 
smile. It was her turn to be surprised, however, when 
the Rector addressed Daley by name and inquired if he 
might interrupt their stroll a moment and have a word or 
two with him, in private. 

Upon learning of the Rector’s unexpected decision the 
detective expressed sincere, if almost extravagant, delight, 
and before they parted he had promised still further to 
facilitate his going by arranging for his railroad tickets 
on the way home. “Sure ’tis no trrouble at all,” he said. 
“The daypot is right on my way.” As, indeed, it was if 


MULTUM IN PARVO 


225 


one went by a semi-circular route at least two miles longer 
than the straight one. 

Thus Fate made smooth the way, and Dee Dee elected 
to regard it as a propitious augury. The stars, too, 
seemed to prophesy success, for they shone refulgently 
in the northern heavens, while the moon—now almost 
completely full—at that moment burst in silver glory 
through the clouds to the right. With the air divinely 
clear and mild the night seemed to be made for strolling 
lovers, and Dee Dee experienced a pang of very human 
envy as he saw the man and the maid cross the street 
in the direction of the shadowy park. He might instead 
have felt somewhat flattered if he had been able to over¬ 
hear the words which the detective was enthusiastically 
speaking at the moment. “Sure, Doctor Deane is a real 
he-man, and a foine fellow, intoirely. My wan regret 
about him is thot he ain’t a priest, for if he was ’tis 
mysilf thot would be askin’ him to marry us, come nixt 
fall, Nora darlin’.” 

“Go on wid you, thin, Dan Daley,” the girl retorted. 
“I ain’t said ‘y es> to you yet—it’s not likely, me havin’ 
known you but four days altogether.” 

“Only four days, is it? Well, maybe so, by the cal¬ 
endar, but ’tis toime enough for we, anyway. I’ve 
packed a cintury of lovin’ thoughts into each wan of 
thim, at the ixpense of my worrk. I’m an officer of 
the law, macushla, but let me tell you somethin’. If 
kissin’ is a crime I’m goin’ to learn you thot a cop can 
be a tiptop criminal, whin I get you in the park, yonder.” 

“Thin I’ll not be goin’ there wid you, at all, at all,” she 
retorted. But she went. 


226 


“DEE DEE ” 


Except for the packing of his suitcase and bag there 
remained but one thing for Dee Dee to do, and he set 
about its accomplishment without delay, upon reaching 
home. His mother had already retired, but she had left 
her bedroom door open and called to him as he passed 
through the hall. Sitting beside her on the bed, in the 
dimly lighted room, he became a boy again and poured 
out his heart, keeping nothing back. 

They talked long and earnestly, but their conversation 
need not be recorded except, perhaps, for Mrs. Deane’s 
final words after he had kissed her good night and was 
about to leave the room. 

“Yes, go, David. And don’t go as a ‘Faintheart.’ I 
love Anne like a daughter already and am sure that she 
is very fond of you, too. Fight for her—and win, my 
dear.” 

And it was those words which were last in his mind 
as he finally fell asleep. 

“Fight'for her—and win!” 


CHAPTER IV 


SILVER LAKEWARDS 

“So there’s to be three instead of two of us, startin’ 
out on this man-hunt,” grinned Daley, as the Rector 
joined him in the parlor car a few minutes after the 
train had pulled out. 

The Rector smiled, rather apologetically. 

“I’m afraid that he’ll be more a hindrance than help— 
but my mother insisted. I’ve never known that dog to 
cut up the way he did this morning and I can’t under¬ 
stand it—guess he isn’t as well trained as I had thought 
he was. Ordinarily he obeys my orders without any 
argument or protest, except a reproachful look, perhaps, 
but he certainly raised ruction an hour ago. He began 
to tease the instant he saw me bring my grips downstairs, 
and wouldn’t listen when I explained to him that he 
couldn’t go with me, this trip. Oh yes, I suppose I am 
a bit of a nut where he’s concerned. He whined and 
‘talked back’ like a stubborn child. I never punish him 
by whipping, or anything like that, but when it was time 
for me to leave I said good-bye to him and shut him up 
in the study. 

“Under ordinary circumstances he would have felt that 
he was in deep disgrace, and sneaked off with head and 
tail down, behind the couch in the corner, but not a bit 
of it, this time. Instead, he began to howl to beat the 
band and even scratched the door. Mother begged me to 
227 


228 


“DEE DEE ” 


take him along, as it has been nearly a year since he’s 
had a place where he could run at large, but by that time 
I was beginning to lose my patience, and I spoke through 
the door as sternly as I could. He shut up, and I thought 
that was an end of it. To tell the truth it made me feel 
rather ashamed of myself. 

“But just as I was on the point of getting into the 
taxi and turned to wave to mother, darned if there 
wasn’t a regular volcanic eruption inside the study, and 
Deedon came out through the window, taking the whole 
screen out with him. He dodged around my legs, 
jumped into the cab and up on the seat where he 
crouched down in the corner.” 

“The dickens you say!” exclaimed the amused and 
interested listener. 

“Well, that’s what I did say, or worse. For a second 
I lost my temper completely, and started to yank him 
out by the scruff of the neck, but mother interfered. 
She’s Scotch and still retains a good deal of the super¬ 
stition of that race, I’m afraid, for she insisted that the 
animal wouldn’t have behaved like that without some 
good reason, although it might be beyond the ken of us 
ignorant humans, and quoted a well-known remark made 
by Hamlet to his friend Horatio. I laughed at her and 
she came back with the statement that unless I took the 
dog along she’d worry about me every minute of the time 
I’m gone. That settled it; it became a case of ‘have 
to’, then.” 

“Oh, sure,” responded Daley, seriously. “Maybe she’s 
got the right of it, at thot—who knows? Dogs is quare 
folks intoirely, and there’s no ixplainin’ some of the things 


SILVER LAKEWARDS 


229 


they do, by the rules of rayson—such as howlin’ whin 
somewan dies, for instance. To tell the truth I’m glad 
you brought him, under thim circumstances. Like enough 
he’ll be a mascot for us.” 

“Perhaps. Well, I may as well confess that I’m not 
sorry either. I would have missed him like the mischief 
—and all the way to the station he was thanking me for 
yielding, and apologizing for his behavior, in a thoroughly 
human manner. He set the seal of his approval on you, 
right off the bat, I noticed, Daley.” 

“He did, thin—glory be! Sure I’d rather be havin’ 
him for a frind than a foe. Look at the size of him! 
Will he be O. K. lift alone in the baggage car, d’ye 
think?” 

“Yes, indeed. He’s travelled in one before, and seems 
to understand the irksome necessity. He submitted to 
being tied up, as a matter of course, and looked per¬ 
fectly disgusted with a neighboring terrier that made an 
outrageous fuss when his mistress started to leave him. 
By the way, there she comes now,” he added, lowering 
his voice. 

Dee Dee’s nod indicated a young woman who was 
approaching them down the aisle, moving with unusual 
grace. A close-fitting toque almost wholly hid her wavy 
bobbed hair which had the color and sheen of young 
corn silk, and her face was concealed by a three-quarter 
cream-colored veil. Although the day was warm, a 
wrap, cut rather like a military cloak, enveloped her, 
and the whole effect was so striking that every eye turned 
toward her as she made her way to her chair. The seat 
proved to be only two away from where the Rector and 


230 


“DEE DEE ” 


Daley were located and they had a good view of her as 
she slowly prepared to make herself comfortable for the 
long trip, by removing her wrap and hat, shaking out 
her mop of silken hair and settling herself in such a man¬ 
ner that her extremely shapely legs, clad in the sheerest 
of silk stockings, were displayed almost to the knees. 
There was only one false note in the picture of up-to-the- 
minute femininity—her left arm was carried in a sling 
made of a large and colorful silk handkerchief. 

“Some pippin!” remarked Daley, sotto voce. “And 
I’m thinkin’ thot I’ve seen her somewhere before.” 

“So have I—or rather I’ve seen some one whom she 
resembles strikingly,” Dee Dee responded. 

“Well, thin, I hope it’s the latter, in your case, Doc, 
for I’ve jest remimbered where it was I seen her. She’s 
a specialty dancer in wan of the popular burlesque shows 
in town, and the rayson I didn’t recognize her at first was 
because of her skirt. It makes a whale of a difference, 

but now that the curtain’s up- She’s a lullapolusa, 

ain’t she?” 

The Rector assumed a shocked expression, but men¬ 
tally he had to admit that—for her particular type—she 
was. Certainly she looked like a dancer—tall, slender 
and supple. Although her hair was light, the irises of her 
eyes were a deep liquid brown and her long lashes 
almost black. Her profile, too, was strikingly handsome 
except for the fact that her lips—artificially crimsoned 
—were rather too full, sensuous and pouting. Of course 
her face was made up, but not inartistically. The Rector 
found himself contrasting her with Anne, and since the 
latter was his complete ideal of what the modern girl 



SILVER LAKEWARDS 


231 


should be, it is needless to state that the comparison was 
hardly to the stranger’s advantage. 

Until the hour for luncheon, the two men talked on 
random topics, occasionally lowering their voices when 
they mentioned anything connected with their present 
errand. Then Dee Dee went forward to the baggage car 
to see that the dog was fed. When he returned, he re¬ 
marked to his companion, “I’ve just made a rather 
interesting discovery and struck on an odd coincidence, 
Dan” for it was “Dan” and “Doc,” now. 

“How’s thot?” 

“After feeding Deedon, I stopped a jiffy to pat the 
little terrier belonging to our siren yonder, and happened 
to catch sight of the tag on which was printed his destina¬ 
tion. Naturally I was rather interested, for the words 
were ‘Silver Lake’.” 

“Naturally, yis! I wonder did you also see the owner 
of the dog’s name? Thot’s a bit twisted, but I guess 
you know what I mane,” laughed the detective. 

“Well, yes.” Dee Dee flushed a little, for he did not 
enjoy the idea of appearing unduly inquisitive. Drop¬ 
ping his voice so that the occupant of the seat ahead 
could not by any possibility overhear, he added, “It 
was Loretta Lamperth.” 

“NO!” 

The detective’s ejaculation sounded like a smothered 
explosion. With kindling eyes he stared excitedly at 
the actress, who remained entirely oblivious to his rude 
regard. Then he seized his companion’s arm and 
whispered, “Say, come wid me into the smokin’ compart- 


232 


“DEE DEE ” 


ment, where we can talk widout the fear of bein’ dis¬ 
turbed, maybe.” 

The Rector followed him eagerly although not pri¬ 
marily with a view to satisfying his curiosity, for the 
question which had arisen in his mind had already been 
answered. Daley’s excited thoughts had bridged the 
space between brain and brain without help from Dee 
Dee, but it is probable that the latter’s mind was par¬ 
tially prepared for the answer by a subconscious putting 
of two and two together. Loretta Lamperth—if that 
was indeed her real name—was the young actress to 
whom Leighton had been paying clandestine court until 
the previous week. And Chance, the master stage man¬ 
ager, had put her on the same train with them, and 
bound for the same place. 

As “luncheon was now being served in the dining car,” 
they found the smoking compartment untenanted, and 
when Daley got fully inside he turned to the Rector and 
burst out in a voice which quivered with suppressed eager¬ 
ness, “Say, do you know who thot dame is?” 

Dee Dee smiled and calmly got out his pipe and began 
to fill it. They had time to burn, and he proposed to 
have a little fun at the detective’s expense. 

“Of course,” he replied, in a casual manner 

Daley looked disappointed. 

“Do you, thin?” 

“Why certainly.” Puff. “She’s your friend Leigh¬ 
ton’s-” Puff, puff. 

“Sure and thot’s jest who she is—or was. But how 
in the name of all the saints did you know it?” 

“How? Why, you told me, yourself.” 



SILVER LAKEWARDS 


233 


“Me? You’re crazy—beggin’ your pardon. I niver 
did. I didn’t find out her name, mysilf, until yisterday.” 

“Nevertheless you informed me of the fact, Dan.” 

“I did? Whin, for heaven’s sake?” 

“Oh, about a minute and a half ago.” 

“ ‘A minute and a-?’ Be gorry, you don’t mane 

it!” Daley laughed rather nervously, and then scratched 
his close-cropped head. 

“So you’ve been performin’ wan of your mind-readin’ 
stunts wid me as the victim, have you? Morrissy told me 
all about it—your power, I mane, and I’ve got to confess 
thot I took it wid a pillar of salt. I belaved it, but was 
still from Missouri, so to spake. Now—well, it bates 
the Dutch, don’t it? And incidentally I see thot I’ve got 
to be ixtra careful what I think, on this trip, or I’ll be 
gettin’ in Dutch. Thanks for the compliment, howiver.” 

“The compliment?” 

“Sure. If you was able to read my mind, it shows thot 
I have wan, annyway.” 

“Wonder if that would be regarded as direct, or cir¬ 
cumstantial, evidence?” laughed Dee Dee. “Well, it 
looks as though our man-hunting expedition, as you call 
it, may have been augmented by an additional new 
recruit. I suppose it’s a reasonable bet that the lady 
is also on Leighton’s trail.” 

“I’d give odds thot thot’s the case,” agreed Daley, 
confidently. “Dan Leighton, heavy, heavy hangs over 
your head, I’m thinkin’. If I don’t sind you to the 
electric chair you’ve got somethin’ as bad, or worse, 
cornin’ to you. If ’twas me, I think I know which of 
the two I’d be choosin’.” 



234 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Evidently you agree with the poet who said, ‘Hell 
hath no fury like a woman scorned’.” 

“So thot’s how it goes, is it? Sure I always thought 
it was a joke—no fury like a woman’s corn.” 

“No. I’ve quoted you the original version. And it’s no 
joke, according to the evidence of history, fiction and 
drama,” said the Rector. 

“I’ll say the same. And I’ll bet thot she could make 
it hot as Hades for a man, give her a chance.” 

“By the way, Dan, how did you learn her name?” 

“Oh, Leighton’s valet give it to me, whin I paid a 
second call on him, yisterday. Likewise her address. 
I trried to git an interview wid her, to see could I find 
out annything more about Leighton and his affairs, but 
her maid—oh, yis, she has all the fixin’s, belave me, and 
the miss was as pretty a colleen as iver came over 
from-” 

“Daley, I’m surprised and shocked! Have you for¬ 
gotten whom I saw you with, last evening?” 

“By the Saints, I’ve got to mend my ways now, 
ain’t I? I’ll be a married man, come Siptimber. Nora’s 
a great gurrl, ain’t she, Doc? But what I started to say 
was thot the maid informed me thot her mistress had 
met wid an accident and been laid up in bed for siviral 
days and couldn’t see no wan. At the toime I thought 
’twas a stall, maybe. I didn’t tell her who and what I 
was, and like enough she took me for a bill collector. 
But now I dunno. Did you mind thot she’s wearin’ her 
arrm in a sling? I’m kind of sorry for her, at thot, for 
she’s been handed a pretty rough deal—Leighton ‘ain’t 
done right by our Nell’ as the auld tin, twinty, thirty 



SILVER LAKEWARDS 


235 


shows put it. But annyway it sure looks like she’d 
found out where he’s hidin’ himsilf, somehow, and is 
hot-foot on his trail to take it out of his hide. Ho-ho, 
I’m minded to let her have first chance at him, ’twould 
be as good as a play. Say, Doc, there’s wan thing I 
wish, though.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“I wish thot you’d kind of strike up an acquaintance 
wid the lady, and see if maybe you can’t learn somethin’ 
from her thot might be of interest to us—widout her 
bein’ anny the wiser.” 

“Daley! You make a suggestion of that sort to me?” 
The Rector looked austere enough, but he was inwardly 
amused. “Would you have a minister of the gospel pick 
up a burlesque actress, on trainboard?” 

The detective grew as red as a boy and twisted uncom¬ 
fortably. “Aw, now,” he said. “Sure I didn’t mane 
annything like thot—at least, not in no such sinse-” 

“Say no more,” Dee Dee broke in. Then he laughed 
heartily and slapped his companion on the knee, say¬ 
ing, “You’re still a good deal of a kid, Dan—and I 
guess I am, too. But it simply isn’t done, you know. 
Why don’t you try it yourself? You intended to, yes¬ 
terday.” 

“I hadn’t seen her, thin. Now—well, I’ve a hunch thot 
I’d better not. I know her type, and don’t trust mysilf 
wid wan of ’em. If I should try to pump some informa¬ 
tion out of her, like enough ’twould ind up by her pumpin’ 
me; and if she should git wise to the fact thot I’m a police 
officer, arrmed wid a warrant for her man, I wouldn’t 
set it above her to switch right around and tip him off, 



236 


“DEE DEE” 




if she got the chance. There’s no understand^’ women, 
at all, or tellin’ what they’ll do nixt.” 

In spite of the serious nature of the task which lay 
before him, Dee Dee was thoroughly enjoying the 
moment’s conversation, and he could not refrain from 
twitting the detective on the fact that he was actually 
planning to marry one of the incomprehensible sex, 
within a few months. 

But Daley answered, naively, “Oh, but thot’s different, 
entoirely. Nora ain’t her type.” 

David’s thoughts returned to Anne. She, too, was 
“different entirely”—as the one girl always is! 

So the train sped on, northwards, bearing the four 
hunters. And on the second day, after they had all 
changed to the single-track spur line which led them 
many miles into the virgin woods, they reached the 
primitive station which bore the legend, “SILVER 
LAKE.” 


CHAPTER V 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 

The time was one of lull between the departure of 
the early fishermen and the rush of summer vacationists, 
and Daley’s telegram to the inn had secured for them 
the reservation of two simple, but fairly comfortable 
rooms facing the picturesque lake, and the first act of 
the two travel-stained men was to retire to them and 
perform such apologies for a bath as was possible with 
the limited toilet facilities—old-fashioned pitchers and 
bowls. The Rector looked longingly at the sparkling 
waters of the lake, into which he might almost have 
dived from his bedroom window, but regretfully post¬ 
poned the idea of a plunge into it. There was no time 
to waste in pleasure. 

On the way up he had taken the detective almost 
wholly into his confidence as to the real reason for his de¬ 
termination to make the trip, only reserving, unspoken, 
his love for Anne—which Daley more than half guessed 
—and they had decided that he should make the initial 
call at the Leighton camp alone, perform his first errand 
and find out just how the land lay. At the last moment, 
however, the detective had announced that he meant to 
accompany him to within hailing distance of the spot, 
so as to be on hand to take advantage of any possible 
opening which might arise. 

On separating, they had agreed to set out in half an 
237 


238 


“DEE DEE ” 


hour, which would enable them to reach the place be¬ 
fore sundown. Anxiety and eagerness combined to 
speed Dee Dee’s preparations, and he was ready to 
depart some minutes before he heard Dan’s knock on 
the door, and voice announcing his presence outside. 
Simultaneously, the door opened and Deedon gave a 
short, surprised bark. The head which had been stuck 
into the opening was apparently that of an odd appear¬ 
ing total stranger, and the Rector also looked startled 
for an instant. Then he burst into a roar of laughter. 

Vanished was the close-cropped, carroty hair, the 
merry blue eyes and broad, genial mouth which character¬ 
ized the Irishman. In their stead appeared a shock of 
iron-gray hair, a drooping mustache, black, bushy eye¬ 
brows and large, tinted spectacles. A broad-brimmed 
black felt hat, a suit of baggy tweed and a butterfly net 
completed the transformation. 

“Marvelous!” cried the Rector. “I should never have 
known you, except for your voice and your brogue.” 

The exposed portions of the detective’s face colored up, 
partly from pleasure and partly from the suspicion that 
the other was making fun of him. 

“But,” Dee Dee went on, vastly amused as he remem¬ 
bered Morrissy’s statement as to his assistant’s par¬ 
tiality for disguises, “why, oh why the elaborate make¬ 
up in this remote neck of the woods? You’re merely 
setting out on a reconnaissance—or at the most to ‘get 
your man.’ Leighton doesn’t know you by sight, does 
he?” 

“No, not yit. But there’s ithers thot do—Miss Anne 
and the housekaper, for ixample. ’Tis possible thot wan 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


239 


or the ither of thim might catch sight of me, and be sur¬ 
prised into makin’ some ixclamation thot would spill 
the beans. If Leighton got wise to the fact thot a de¬ 
tective was snoopin’ around he might up and bate it.” 

“I see. Yes, there may be something in that. Well, 
it’s a masterpiece—I’d defy your own mother to recog¬ 
nize you, if you kept your mouth shut. By the way, 
who—or what—are you supposed to be? Am I 
acquainted with you?” 

“By gorry, I dunno—I hadn’t thought of thot. Of 
course it’s not likely thot I’ll appear at all, but if, for 
anny rayson, it seems best for me to, I’ll say thot I’ve 
lost my way and thin ’twill be up to you to claim 
acquaintance wid me, or not, as you see fit. I’ll play 
up to you, don’t worry. At prisint, howiver, I figure 
it’ll be best for you to lave me under cover widin whistlin’ 
distance, and I’ll show up only in case you think it’s ad¬ 
visable and give me a call. Can you whistle ‘The 
Wearin’ of the Green’?” 

“I guess that I could, on a pinch, but it might strike 
my other hearers as odd. Suppose we make it ‘Over 
There,’ although it is not likely that it will be necessary 
to call you, tonight. One of the reasons I came along 
was to see to it that you don’t arrest Leighton in Miss 
Willoughby’s presence, you know. Well, let’s go.” 

They went downstairs and sought out the landlord to 
learn from him the best route to the Leighton camp. He 
gave the necessary directions from behind the counter, 
keeping one suspicious eye on the massive dog, and the 
other on Dan, whose appearance obviously puzzled him 
—as was hardly to be wondered at. Then the oddly 


240 


“ DEE DEE” 


assorted trio set forth on the final lap of their journey. 

If anxious anticipations of what might be going to 
happen when they reached their goal had not filled the 
Rector’s mind, practically to the exclusion of everything 
else, he might have been tempted to follow Deedon’s 
example and celebrate his release from the city’s confines 
by “cutting loose,” like the dog that was continually 
making mad, joyous rushes hither and yon through the 
underbrush, along the wooded path or down to the shore. 
But they fatally interfered with the spell which Nature 
was silently casting through the medium of the visible 
primeval loveliness of the spot. Anne had not written 
of its charm in terms a whit too laudatory. It was 
idyllic. 

The day was now fast advancing to its close. On the 
further side of the lake—which alternately appeared 
through leafy vistas and was lost to view, as the path 
bent inland among a thick growth of hoary pines and 
hemlocks, untouched by the woodman’s ax—the sun 
was already approaching the summit of a purple hill. 
Deep blue shadows were commencing to creep out across 
the pale and placid surface of the water, the greater 
part of which, however, glistened like a gigantic mirror, 
reflecting the heavens and the masses of fleecy clouds, 
now toned with delicate pinks and lavenders. Within 
the forest, the shadows on the ground, which was thickly 
carpeted with fallen needles, had taken on deeper tones 
and become almost softly tangible. The air—deliciously 
balsam-scented and clean—had already grown so cool 
that a brisk pace was pleasurable. Silence lay every¬ 
where about them; silence broken only by an occasional 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


241 


soft biidcall or the sounds made by their feet, accustomed 
to flat city pavements, as they struck against far-spread¬ 
ing roots or snapped the dry twigs with which the path 
was copiously strewn. 

The two men spoke rarely, and at last the dog grew 
tired of his gambols and fell to pacing sedately by his 
master’s side. 

“About a mile,” the innkeeper had called the distance, 
but it seemed to be an elastic one which stretched out 
materially as they followed the ever-twisting path, and 
before their destination was in sight the sun had dis¬ 
appeared behind the rampart of hills to the west. The 
light appeared actually to increase for a time, however, 
for the clouds had been set on fire and the glowing ra¬ 
diance emanating from them penetrated even among the 
trees. 

Clearly illuminated in this manner stood the camp 
which they sought, as a sudden shoreward twist in the 
path brought them opposite a somewhat more open 
space enclosed with a fence of split rails. 

From their vantage point they could see for a consid¬ 
erable distance along the curving shore of the lake, and 
caught sight of several other habitations, but none of 
them as pretentious as that owned by Daniel Leighton 
—if the term “pretentious” can properly be applied to 
dwellings built of hewn, moss-and-lichen-covered logs. 
There were three of them, in all; two sleeping cabins and 
a larger central camp a story and a half high with a broad 
veranda facing the lake and two picturesque field-stone 
chimneys, as well as a commodious ell which was obvi¬ 
ously devoted to the kitchen, for the sound of pans being 


242 


“ DEE DEE” 


put away and dishes clicking together came from it. 
The dwellings blended artistically into the natural land¬ 
scape, but the note of primitive simplicity was disturbed 
by a few evidences of effete civilization—wire screening 
about the porch and on the windows, the presence of a 
“flivver” underneath a rude lean-to, and a motor boat 
tied up to the float at the end of a rough stone pier. 

The pair stopped simultaneously and bent their gaze 
on the dwellings in the hope of seeing those whom they 
sought—although they looked for different ones. No¬ 
body was in sight, however, and there were no signs of 
human life in the vicinity with the exception of some 
one—a mere speck—who was slowly paddling a canoe 
away from them along the shore of the lake. Now and 
again the light caught and flashed on the paddle’s shin¬ 
ing blade. 

“Quite a shack Leighton’s got here,” remarked Daley, 
in a low voice. “It looks deserted, though, ixcept for the 
sounds cornin’ from the kitchen, but like enough they 
have their supper late and are all inside.” 

“Hold on a minute—I think there is somebody sit¬ 
ting in that deck chair on the veranda, back to us. It 
seems to be moving slightly,” said Dee Dee. 

“Faith, you’re right—as usual. And ’tis good eye¬ 
sight you have. I wonder is it-” 

“We’ll soon know.” The Rector made a character¬ 
istically swift decision and, disdaining to remove the 
bars which blocked the path, vaulted lightly over the 
breast-high fence. Deedon followed with a graceful 
bound. 

“I’ll be kapin’ out of sight but widin sound, here,” the 



THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


243 


other announced, and suiting his action to his words he 
disappeared behind a nearby clump of small conifers, 
where he was completely hidden among the deepening 
shadows. At the same instant, Dee Dee caught sight of 
a man’s form which had just appeared on the piazza of 
the cottage. It paused near the deck chair a moment, 
then emerged through the screened door and came 
directly toward him, down the beaten path. A very 
noticeable limp and the fact that the man leaned heavily 
on a cane gave evidence that it was the owner himself. 

Dee Dee addressed a word of warning to Daley, under 
his breath, and then, acting on impulse, likewise dodged 
out of sight behind a growth of bushes, drawing the dog 
down beside him and commanding him to keep quiet. 
Thirty seconds later Leighton passed within a few feet 
of them—and now he was swinging along jauntily with¬ 
out the suggestion of a limp. As Dee Dee watched him, 
he also jumped the fence without effort and headed up 
the continuation of the path along which they had just 
come. At the same time his walk quickened into a 
brisk trot which carried him out of sight around a turn, 
almost immediately. The Rector returned to the fence, 
where he was promptly joined by the detective, and the 
latter’s drooping mustache, big as it was, could not 
wholly conceal his grin. 

“By the saints, we’ve jest witnessed a miracle and seen 
the lame man lape,” said he. “So he’s still shammin’, 
more shame to him. Did you notice the change as soon 
as he felt he was fairly out of sight from the house? I 
wonder could he have learned thot Loretta is on his trail 
again, and have headed for the Canadian border a-foot?” 


244 


“DEE DEE ” 


“I doubt it. But perhaps I’ll be able to find out where 
he has gone, in a minute, Dan.” 

“Should I be after follerin’ him, d’ye think?” 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you—yet. Better wait until I 
return from my call, which I mean to make a brief one, 
in any event. It’s almost certain that Leighton will have 
to come back the same way he went, and we can waylay 
him if we decide it’s advisable.” 

“Jest as you say, Doc. Only don’t let yoursilf be held 
captive by no siren’s song, or I might be timpted to act 
on my own hook—and somehow I’d prefer havin’ you 
along.” 

Dee Dee laughed and promised. Leighton’s departure 
fitted in with his tentative plans to a T, and seemed like 
a further augury of success. With his heartbeats quick¬ 
ened by thoughts of Anne he hastened up the winding 
path to the veranda, Deedon padding along beside him, 
nose to the ground as though deeply interested in 
Leighton’s scent—or perhaps he had found another which 
he recognized, Anne’s? The Rector almost broke into 
a run. He might be seeing her again in ten seconds; 
five; three- 

He rounded the corner of the piazza and stepped to 
the door. A servant was just reentering the house, after 
having placed a lighted lamp on a taboret beside the 
steamer chair, and by its light Dee Dee now saw that the 
person who had been hidden from them was Tom Wil¬ 
loughby and that he was busily engaged in writing a 
letter, with a magazine held on his knees as a pad. He 
was clad in a comfortable white sweater, and was smok¬ 
ing the inevitable cigarette. 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


245 


He knocked and spoke at the same time, saying, 
“May I come in, Tom?” 

At the sound of his voice the young man started up so 
suddenly that his writing materials, including a fountain 
pen, flew in all directions, and he swung around toward 
the door, exclaiming, “Well, for the love of Mike! 
Speaking of angels—or was it the devil? Doctor Deane I 
What on earth brings you—of all persons—up to this 
jumping-off place, tonight?” 

“You do, for one thing, Tom,” responded the Rector 
as he entered and they shook hands, warmly. 

“I? How come?” 

“You see I received your letter, enclosed with Anne’s, 
and-” 

“And the funny part of it is that I was just this instant 
writing you another. I got one this afternoon from that 
devil, Angus—forwarded from home, and he’s threaten¬ 
ing-” 

“I can imagine, but-” 

“I know what you’re going to say, Doctor. But I just 
can’t stand it any longer, I’ve reached the end of my 
rope. He threatened to write Anne, and I’m about sick 
worrying over the mess, on her account. Of course 
asking Dan for the money isn’t a very agreeable job and 
I’ve kept putting it off, but I’m going to tackle him 
tonight, and was writing you-” 

“Let’s have that letter, old man.” 

Tom recovered the scattered pages and passed them 
over, and their recipient calmly tore them into small 
pieces and dropped them in the side pocket of his coat. 
The younger man watched him with open-mouthed sur- 






246 


“DEE DEE ” 


prise and an expression of some resentment on his face, 
but before he could utter either question or protest, the 
Rector said, “I had a premonition that this was about 
due, and—feeling as I do—that it would be a serious 
mistake, I determined to run up here, rather than trust 
to the mails, which are often delayed. Your plan is not 
only unwise, but unnecessary, Tom. Have you ever 
seen tins before?” 

While he spoke he had been taking out his pocketbook, 
and now he extracted the fragments of the note and 
dropped them in the young man’s mechanically out¬ 
stretched hand. For an instant the latter stared at them 
blankly. Then his hand closed with a jerk, crushing 
them into a wad and he slumped into the chair as 
though the strength had suddenly been sapped from his 
legs. “My God!” he said, under his breath. Brushing 
the back of his hand across his eyes—it was a gesture 
which Dee Dee had often seen indulged in on the stage, 
and called it “melodramatic” yet now Tom was doing it 
instinctively—he stammered, “You—you g-got it!” 

“Seeing is believing,” smiled the Rector. 

“But—how? You —you didn’t buy him off?” 

“I should say not! And never mind how, for the pres¬ 
ent. Perhaps I’ll tell you the whole yarn, some time, 
but all that you really need to know, now, is that he 
isn’t sitting on your neck any longer. I also think that 
it’s fairly safe to say that the whole incident is closed. 
But it is up to you to see to it that you steer clear of 
messes like that, hereafter.” 

“You can bet your life I will, Doctor Deane!” re¬ 
sponded Tom, with emphasis and real emotion. “You 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


247 


remember what I said about having quit drinking? Well, 
I don’t want to boast, but I’ve said, ‘Nothing doing’ to 
Dan any number of times since we’ve been up here. 
He’s been hitting it up a bit, himself, and I’ve even read 
him a lecture or two, on the evils of booze. It is to 
laugh, isn’t it?” 

“On the contrary, I’m mighty glad to hear it. ‘Let 
your conscience continue to be your guide,’ to use a mod¬ 
ern slang motto. It isn’t going to be necessary for me 
to suggest that you sign the pledge, but there is one 
promise I’d like to have from you although I’m not 
going to press you to make it.” 

“Don’t worry. I don’t know what it is, but I’ll 

promise in advance. You’ve been such a brick- 

Talk about your ‘friends in need!’ I don’t know how 
I’m ever going to thank you-” 

“Don’t try. I think that I know something of how 
you feel and the feeling is what counts. Consider the 
affair closed— c’est finis —except for one thing. Now 
that it’s ended, I think that you should tell Anne all 
about it—omitting only my small share in the matter, 
which I should prefer that she didn’t know about. You 
owe it to her and she’ll understand and think more than 
ever of you for having given her your confidence. Of 
course you can choose your own time for doing it.” 

Tom slowly nodded in acquiescence although he gulped 
visibly once or twice. The Rector laid a kindly hand 
upon his shoulder, and added, “I know that it won’t be 
easy to do, but the hard things of life are the ones which 
strengthen the moral, as well as the muscular, fibres. 

“By the way, where, and how, is Anne?” he asked, 




248 


“DEE DEE ” 


abruptly changing the subject to the one nearest his 
heart. 

“Oh, she’s first rate—at least she seems well enough, 
although a chap can see that she hasn’t got over the 
shock and for the first couple of days here, she stuck to 
me like a burr and didn’t have any ambition to enter 
into things strenuously. Mrs. Moore, Dan, Sis and I 
played bridge and Mah Jongg until I’m ashamed to look 
a card or a tile in the face. Today, though, she has been 
more restless and wanted to get off by herself, apparently. 
She’s out in the canoe now—said that she was going to 
commune alone with nature and follow the sunset. Dan 
and I both offered to go along—a matter of politeness in 
my case—but were both turned down. To tell the 
truth I’ve a hunch that she has run away from him for a 
little while. Dan’s been patient, but I suspect that there 
is a proposal in the air, tonight—women are queer things, 
aren’t they? I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Anne 
has ‘led him on,’ for she isn’t that kind, but he’s been a 
suitor of hers for a couple of years and I suspect that 
they have had what you might call an understanding, 
for some time, and have been waiting for her to get 
through college. But now when a showdown is immi¬ 
nent she gets panicky and beats it. 

“Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you all this, but you 
are certainly a friend of the family, and she’ll want you 
to marry her, when the time comes.” 

“I see.” Dee Dee responded quietly, and neither by 
look nor tone did he disclose the emotion which was 
tearing, vulture-like, at his heart. “And you feel that 
Mr. Leighton-?” 


THE STREAMS CONVERGE 


249 


“Oh, Dan isn’t a Sir Galahad, perhaps, but he’s a 
pretty good sport, with money to burn, and crazy about 
her. We’ve been pals for a long time, you know.” 

“Yes. Well—” He thought swiftly and decided that 
there was nothing to be gained by disclosing the truth 
and suspicions about Leighton to Tom in advance of 
Daley’s interview with the man, whereas it might lead to 
harm. “Well, I am very glad that she is beginning to 
feel better—I suppose it was she whom I saw paddling 
up the shore as I came down the path.” 

“Uh-huh. I imagine that she headed for a picturesque 
little cove a mile or so up the line—a spot that she has 
fallen in love with and claims as her special property. 
Says there are fairies there, and all that sort of Peter 
Pannish rot, you know.” 

“Murderer!” smiled Dee Dee. “A fairy drops down 
dead -every time that some one denies their existence, 
you know. Well, I must be traveling along. There is an 
acquaintance waiting for me out by the gate and we may 
decide to walk on a little farther, in which event per¬ 
haps I’ll run upon her. If I don’t, please tell her that 
I have followed a suggestion which she made when she 
wrote me about your sudden change of plans, and that 
I’ve come up here for a few days’ vacation with the friend 
I mentioned. Of course we’re staying at the inn-” 

“Can’t you come here to the camp and bunk with 
me?” 

“Oh, no. That’s impossible. But I intend to walk 
over here again tomorrow morning anyway.” 

“She’ll be tickled to death to see you, either tonight 
«ur tomorrow. The path follows the shore line pretty 


250 


“DEE DEE ” 


much, and if you follow it you’re bound to hit on the 
place where I suspect that she has gone—I’m not sure 
of it, although it seems to me that she said something 
about heading for there with the intention of paddling 
back by moonlight. Don’t look surprised. She’s in the 
habit of ‘ganging her ain gait,’ in such matters, and is 
perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It’s as safe 
as a church around these diggings, nowadays. If you 
don’t happen to see her, I’ll pass the word and tell her 
that she can expect you in the morning.” 

“Thanks. Please also give my regards to Mrs. Moore 
and Miss Newell. Mr. Leighton has gone out?” 

“Dan? Yes. I wonder you didn’t pass him as you 
came in, for he left only a jiffy before you arrived—said 
he was going to give his bad peg a bit of mild exercise. 
He is still hobbling around with the aid of a cane. 
Have you really got to hurry, Doctor?” 

“Yes, I have, indeed. Good-night, Tom. I’ll see you 
in the morning.” 

Without further adieu, Dee Dee let himself out and 
walked rapidly back down the path, increasing his pace 
as he neared the fence, despite the darkness. 

The path northward ran along the shore and met the 
cove where Anne Willoughby had, in all probability, 
gone! And that was the path which Leighton had taken 
some eight or ten minutes before, not hobbling on a cane, 
but practically running. 

Was it merely a coincidence? 

Something insistently drove Dee Dee to a contrary 
conclusion. There had been purpose indicated by Leigh¬ 
ton’s action. What purpose? 


CHAPTER VI 


RAPIDS 

Life has many times been likened to a stream, which 
flows onward, now placidly, now full and strong, now 
with a torrential rush or filled with turbulent rapids. 

In the present instance, the waters of several lives 
which had been steadily converging were now on the 
point of mingling and the united stream was destined to 
move faster and faster until it reached a crashing 
cataract. 

Dee Dee felt the irresistible pull of the current and let 
himself go, half eager for, half fearful of, what lay ahead, 
unseen but not entirely unsuspected. He took the fence 
without lessening his speed and swung into the path 
northward. The sunset glow had faded from the sky, but 
now a new, faint, silvery luminousness was taking its 
place, for the full moon had apparently risen in the east, 
although the orb itself was not yet visible above the 
trees. The path was hardly discernible but it was pos¬ 
sible to follow its course, guided by the opening through 
leafy treetops dimly limned against the heavens, and 
throwing caution to the night winds, the Rector sped 
along it without pausing for Daley to join him. He 
merely called back, “Come on!” over his shoulder, but 
the other needed no second bidding and sprinted after 
him at a reckless pace which soon brought him alongside 
his companion in adventure, with whom he fell in stride, 
251 


252 


“DEE DEE ” 


asking no questions. It was apparent that something 
was decidedly “up,” and he felt that he would receive an 
explanation in due time. 

The Rector had run the mile in better than 4.30 at 
college, but he felt that if—under the circumstances— 
they covered the distance to the cove in twice that time 
they would be doing wonderfully. In consequence he 
moderated his speed to a safer pace—something between 
a jog trot and a lope. There was no sense in taking wild 
chances and although he was in fair physical condition 
he had his doubts of Daley’s ability to run a long dis¬ 
tance very fast, even by daylight, and there was an ele¬ 
ment of danger in every step. 

Speaking in short, jerky sentences, he apprised the 
detective of the situation which was in the making— 
according to his forebodings—for he felt almost certain 
now, that Leighton had set forth to join Anne, unex¬ 
pectedly, at the cove. At the conclusion of his disjointed 
recital, his emotions got the better of him a little, and he 
cried out, “Blast him! It’s almost a certainty that he 
has gone there to get her alone and make her listen to 
him. I don’t care what her feelings toward him are— 
I’m going to prevent his proposing, if it’s a possible thing. 
God grant that I am in time! Wouldn’t it be simply 
devilish—the very irony of Fate—if she should accept 
him just an hour or a day before he is arrested for 
murder? It is only about a mile, Tom said, and he could 
not have had a start of more than ten minutes. We may 
make it, Dan.” 

“And maybe—she won’t have gone—there at all,” 
said Daley, who was already beginning to pant a little. 


RAPIDS 


253 


“Possibly not—in that case we’ll have run our race to 
no purpose. But I think that she has—somehow I’m 
almost sure of it. There’s no need of your running your¬ 
self to death, though. You’re not particularly concerned 
in this, you know.” 

“Save your breath—you’ll be nadin’ it, if you are 
goin’ to bate me there, Doc,” answered the Irishman, 
who had caught the contagious spirit of knight-errantry 
and, for the time being, become even more concerned in 
protecting the girl than in capturing the man. 

“Come on, then. It’s useless to say, ‘Watch your 
step,’ but pick up your feet.” 

Daley did not answer in words but for a while he 
forced the pace. Then the other’s more slender build 
and longer legs began to prove their worth in distance 
running and Dee Dee took and kept the lead. Occasion¬ 
ally they ran off the path and into bushes, or stumbled 
over stones and roots, but such mishaps could not check 
them more than temporarily and the distance between 
them and their goal rapidly lessened. Ahead of both 
bounded the dog, with his nose to the ground, as though 
he knew who it was whose trail they were following— 
as was probably the case. 

As the darkness yielded, little by little, to the new 
luminary they made better progress. But now a witness 
of this race against time—had there been one—could not 
have helped being equally amazed and amused at the 
strange spectacle presented by the two city men, for the 
Rector was clad in a semi-ministerial suit of dark gray, 
the clerical waistcoat of which—now unbuttoned— 
flapped open displaying his scarfless shirt front; while 


254 


“DEE DEE” 


the detective’s elaborate disguise had become a ruined 
masterpiece before he had progressed a quarter of the 
distance. A projecting branch early swept away his felt 
hat, which he had not stopped to recover, and set his 
wig awry so that it hung over one ear, and two inches of 
red hair appeared on the other side of his head. One 
bushy eyebrow had wholly vanished and the long, droop¬ 
ing mustache hung by one end until he tore it away 
altogether, leaving his upper lips smeared with patches of 
the dried adhesive. 

A night owl hooted at them, as though in derision, but 
neither of the two men gave thought to his own, or the 
other’s, appearance as they ran on and on, both sweating 
and panting audibly, now. A mile is a long, long way, 
under such conditions. 

Twisting continually, the path now ascended and now 
descended. Several times it almost touched the shore 
where untenanted camps snuggled in indentations 
thereof, and their eyes searched each new cove, vainly, 
for the girl and man, or a beached canoe. Now the 
shore line suddenly grew bolder and more rocky with 
steep banks, and after breasting one sharp rise which 
brought them to the verge of a fifteen or eighteen foot 
cliff, they saw the cove which they sought, below them 
to the left. So enclosed was it by abrupt banks that it 
was almost like a roofless cave with a little beach of fine 
white sand. A few small trees grew therein, and others 
thrust themselves out at varying angles from between 
the boulders which formed the encircling wall. The path 
ran around its edge and on the farther side a narrower 
one branched sharply off and zigzagged down to the 


RAPIDS 


255 


shore, but at the spot where they stood, momentarily 
arrested, the descent would have been both difficult and 
dangerous. 

The scene which was being enacted in the little natural 
amphitheater below was so dimly illuminated that it 
resembled something watched in a dream, or a cinema 
picture showing events occurring in the darkness. But 
the lake mirrored what little light there was, and made it 
possible for them to see the canoe on the beach, the form 
of the girl standing a short distance from it, with the 
man facing her close by. Although they were some 
twenty-five or thirty yards away they were clearly rec¬ 
ognizable as Anne and Leighton. 

The pair — engrossed in their own drama—had neither 
observed nor heard the arrival of the Rector and Daley, 
who instinctively stood motionless for an instant. Dee- 
don also stopped and looked around at his master, 
inquiringly. Only a murmur of words reached the trio 
on the top of the declivity, but spoken language was 
superfluous. The action told the story, perfectly and 
swiftly. 

Leighton was slowly pressing forward, his whole atti¬ 
tude one of eagerness, Anne slowly retreating with one 
hand pressed to her breast and the other lifted as though 
to ward him off. There was protest or fright in every 
line of her figure. Then, almost instantly, the man either 
stumbled or sprang forward—his arms were close about 
the girl- 

Anne cried out, once. The next second she had vio¬ 
lently torn herself free of his embrace—thanks to the 
strength which her athletic training had given her young 


256 


“DEE DEE” 


body. She whirled around and started for the shore with 
the obvious intention of reaching her canoe. But he 
was nearer it, and sprang to head her off, whereupon she 
ran straight for the lake and went into it up to her 
knees. 

Dee Dee’s heart, already throbbing hard from the run, 
experienced a number of emotional transitions almost 
simultaneously. Fear, exultant joy, and hot hatred 
swept through it. He tried to shout to the girl, but 
excitement and the fact that his breath was badly spent 
robbed his cry of all carrying power. It came from his 
lips in a hoarse whisper which could not possibly reach 
the pair in the cove below. Then came inspiration. 
Daley had already started to run around the path but 
before the Rector tore after him he panted out the two 
words, “Go, Deedonl” 

They were scarcely out of his mouth before the animal 
was in action. Uttering one deep-throated note that was 
half bark, half growl, he sprang straight downward over 
the brink of the precipitous bank. He landed first on a 
projecting boulder, part-way down, slipped from it, and 
fell so heavily onto another below that a yelp of pain 
was wrung from him. But he sprang to his feet again 
like a flash and plunged down the remaining distance, 
crashing through the fringe of low bushes. The noise of 
his leap and rush brought both Anne and Leighton to a 
standstill with faces turned towards it, she in the water 
and he at its edge. 

Later, the girl told Dee Dee that she somehow knew 
instantly that the animal was Deedon, although she 
could not hope to explain how. It was inconceivable 


RAPIDS 


257 


that she should actually have recognized him in the near 
darkness. However that may have been, she altered 
her purpose on the moment. She wasn’t really afraid 
after she had made up her mind to escape from Leighton, 
for she knew that she could easily outswim him and 
outrun him upon returning to the shore, if he should fol¬ 
low. But now even that was not necessary. Providence 
had intervened between her and the man who—inflamed 
with drink and desire—had unexpectedly come upon her 
a few moments before, while she was sitting on the sands 
watching the last of the sunset colors fade away from 
the darkening sky, and at first imploringly and then with 
the insistence of one who was temporarily aberrant, 
urged her to marry him, in a manner which was enough 
to have temporarily shaken any woman’s nerve. 

Now she started back towards the beach as the dog 
tore across the rock-strewn and moss-carpeted floor of the 
cove, crying, with eager relief, “Deedon! Deedon! 
Here, boy!” 

It was very different with the man, however. 

His behavior was unquestionably that of a coward, but 
who can feel positively sure that he would not have had, 
and yielded to, the same impulse which caused Leighton 
to turn and flee, incontinently, with the single idea of 
saving his own hide, if—in such a lonely spot in the 
forest—he should suddenly see the darkness give birth to 
a maddened creature resembling nothing so much as a 
werewolf, which was rushing down upon him with bared 
fangs, black lips drawn back in a snarl, ruff bristling? 

However that may be, what Leighton did was to give 
voice to a terrified yell and leap madly for a boulder 


258 


“DEE DEE ” 


at the base of the farther slope. He flung himself 
bodily upon it, scratching his hands, tearing his trousers 
and barking his shins. Then, scrambling to his feet, he 
sprang for a nearby tree trunk which was projecting from 
the bank at an angle of some forty-five degrees. Up it 
he shinned with amazing agility, and only just in time, 
for the dog reached the rock only five seconds behind 
him. Indeed he would certainly have overtaken the man, 
and perhaps rent him to pieces, if the girl’s cry had not 
caused him to turn aside just long enough to splash into 
the water and leap up to lick her cheek in passing. The 
impact of his heavy body threw Anne off her uncertain 
balance, and as there was this time no arm ready to 
support her, she went down on one knee and hand, 
drenching her clothes completely on that side. 

Then as she struggled up, her subconscious mind 
asserted itself and without realizing that she was saying 
it, she called the command, “On guard, DeedonI ” 

On top of the rock to which he had leaped, the dog 
froze into a statue of brute fury. 

Anne knew that the thing which Dee Dee had laugh¬ 
ingly suggested had come to pass. The dog was with her 
—although she had not the slightest conception of how 
he had come there—and she was safe. She took half a 
dozen uncertain steps up the beach and then sank, 
trembling all over, upon the sand and covered her face 
with her hands. The inevitable reaction had come. 

Still unseen by those below, the two newcomers 
reached the top of the by-path, the Rector first despite 
Daley’s head start, and again paused, momentarily. 
Now the moon was over the top of the trees to the east- 


RAPIDS 


259 


ward, and the light perceptibly stronger. It disclosed a 
new arrangement of the dramatis persona on the natural 
stage below—now in a tableau rather than a motion 
picture, and one into which was introduced comedy 
relief of an almost farcical nature. Looking directly 
down on the petrified Leighton, Dee Dee could hardly 
keep from breaking into wild laughter. The detective’s 
final bull-like rush would have carried him over the bank, 
if his companion had not restrained him, physically, long 
enough to warn him to keep back out of sight. “HI go 
down, first,” said Dee Dee, “try to soothe Miss Wil¬ 
loughby and get her out of the way. Your turn’s com¬ 
ing!” he added, with grim significance in his words. 

Then, with eyes only for the girl and heart surcharged 
with sympathy and love combined, he ran and slid down 
the precipitous path, preceded by a small avalanche of 
gravel. 

The new sound brought Anne’s head up with a start. 
Then, for a second time the Rector saw the expression 
of fright and distress on her face yield first to one of 
surprise and then of shining joy. Before he could reach 
her, she had sprung to her feet and started towards him, 
crying, “Oh, David, David! It’s you! I don’t under¬ 
stand—but I’m so glad, so glad.” 

Once more her hands were placed on his shoulders and 
her flushed face was pressed hard against his breast. It 
took every atom of his self-control to keep from crushing 
her to him, but he merely held her trembling form with 
steady hands as he said, much as his mother had, “There, 
there. Everything is all right now, Anne. Deedon 
arrived in time—bless the dog.” 


260 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Yes, bless him. Darling Deedon! But how, how 

did he—did you-? And just at the moment when I 

needed you both so much! It seems impossible—like a 
dream. I knew—at least I believed that you were hun¬ 
dreds of miles away, at home; but I was wishing, almost 
praying—and then he appeared.” 

“Call it an answer to prayer, or a coincidence, as you 
like. I’ll explain later, but it’s a pretty long story and I 
want you to start for home right away—your clothes are 
drenched. I’ll see you there, by and by.” 

“But why don’t you call Deedon and come with me, 
nowV 1 

“I can’t, quite yet, Anne.” 

“What are you going to do? David, please don’t-” 

Her voice trembled. 

“I shan’t touch him; I promise you that, although I’m 
just aching to thrash him within an inch of his life. No, 
as far as I’m concerned he’s going to get off with a 
tongue-lashing. You’ll understand all about it in a little 
while, but I can’t tell you yet. Come, you must start 
now.” 

He faced her around, gently, and urged her—half- 
resisting—towards the canoe, with his arm about her 
waist. When they reached it she stopped and sent one 
brief glance back over her shoulder at the man who was 
still clinging to the tree with the dog standing guard 
beneath. Dee Dee felt a shudder run through her body 
and for just an instant he held her closer to him. 

“David! That beastl” 

She barely whispered the words, but now it was his 
arm that trembled as he almost lifted her into the canoe 




RAPIDS 


261 


and sent it out onto the dark water, which mirrored the 
sky so clearly that it seemed as though the little craft 
had been launched for a journey among the stars. He 
did not trust himself to speak and was already deeply 
regretting the promise which he had made to her, a 
moment previous. With head bowed Anne mechanically 
picked up the paddle and began to dip it into the still 
water, uncertainly at first, but soon with clean, vigorous 
strokes which spelt a sudden determination. It took but 
half a minute for her to drive the canoe around the pro¬ 
jecting point and out of sight behind the dim silhouette 
of rocks and pointed firs and Dee Dee stood with one 
foot in the water, watching, until she was gone. Then 
he turned and strode swiftly towards Leighton. At the 
same instant the detective slid into sight down the 
steep bank, laughing like a schoolboy on vacation. 

“So, Mr. Daniel Leighton, Esq., we’ve got you up a 
tree—and thot goes two ways,” he remarked. 

The words seemed to break the spell which had up to 
that moment held the other petrified and speechless with 
fright. Now he ripped out into a profane demand that 
they call off the dog, although his voice was hysterically 
shrill. He concluded with a violent threat to have the 
law on the Rector for permitting the beast to attack him. 

At the approach of his master Deedon had looked 
around and wagged his tail, but now he gave a blood¬ 
curdling growl and raised himself up with his forepaws 
placed against the trunk of the tree. Leighton cried out 
in terror and drew himself a bit higher up. 

It was Daley who responded to the threat. 

“Sure, the boot is on the ither foot, me brave bully, 


262 


“DEE DEE” 


who deserts a gurrl in the hour of danger and thinks only 
of tryin’ to save his own worthless skin—bad ’cess to you. 
Is it light enough so thot you can see this pretty little 
trinket?” 

He pulled back his coat and displayed the police 
badge pinned to the waistcoat. 

“Who the h—1 are you?” demanded Leighton, in a 
useless attempt to make his voice sound arrogant. It is 
difficult for a badly frightened man clinging half way up 
a tree to appear dignified. 

“Doc, supposin’ you introjuce me to the gintleman, 
since you’re somewhat acquainted wid the two of us— 
and rather better acquainted wid thot ”—he pointed dis¬ 
gustedly to Leighton, “than you was before, I’m 
thinkin’.” 

It was evident that the detective was thoroughly enjoy¬ 
ing the baiting, and Dee Dee realized that he, too, was 
smiling grimly. He had wholly forgotten that he was a 
minister, wont to preach forgiveness of our enemies, and 
there was something heart-warming and exhilarating in 
Leighton’s present plight, so richly deserved, even though 
the serio-comedy promised to be in the nature of a pro¬ 
logue to a tragedy of the direst kind. 

“This is Police Detective Daley, of the Metropolitan 
Force,” he said. 

“Right in ivery respect. And Police Detective Daley 
of the Metropolitan Force is here on business ” continued 
the other, abruptly becoming stern. “It’s no jokin’ mat¬ 
ter, Leighton, though jest how serious it may be depinds 
on yoursilf, and how you answer my questions. Lave 
me advise you to answer ’em, too, for your own good. 


RAPIDS 


263 


Now thin, on last Chuesday night—or Wednesday 
mornin’, rather—you left your rooms at about a quar¬ 
ter past twilve. You took the train, north, at wan 
o’clock. Where was you and what was you doin’ be- 
twane thim hours?” 

“None of your infernal business!” shouted the man 
above him. 

“Thot’s where you’re entoirely mistook. Ain’t I made 
it plain to you thot I’m a police officer here on busi¬ 
ness?—and you know what thot means. Git off your 
high horse, Leighton, and answer my question, or-” 

“Well, or what? I’ve refused!” 

“Refuse, if you like, but little good ’twill do you. Of 
course you have the right to refuse, in which case I’ll 
naturally assume thot ’tis on the ground thot it’s for fear 
of incriminatin’ yoursilf—thot you’re guilty. And thin 
my own course will be clear. But I’m in no special hurry 
—and nayther is the dog, who seems to have some sort 
of a personal grudge agin you, maybe on account of the 
lady, he bein’ a gintleman. We can stick here awhile, 
yit—and a darned sight more comfortable than you.” 

The Rector started. What Daley plainly hinted at 
was utterly illegal; a new type of “Third Degree,” with 
the inquisition chamber the rock-walled cove, the roof 
the starlit sky and his own dog the agent of torture. He 
could not stand by and permit such a thing, but was he 
justified in immediate interference? And was Daley’s 
threat merely a bluff after all? 

“You’ll suffer—I’ll make you sweat for this,” Leigh¬ 
ton raved. 

“No, you won’t. This here is a police dog,” said Daley, 


264 


“DEE DEE ” 


failing to mention who owned the animal. “I’m widin 
my rights in lavin’ him here to guard you, whilst I 
amble back to the village and hunt up the sheriff wid 
authority to serve a warrant in this neck o’ the woods. 
It so happens thot I have wan in my pocket, for your 
arrest as the murderer of-” 

He was interrupted by a cry of terror and then a rush 
of trembling words from the treed man. “No! NO! Not 
thatt I didn’t do it—it was an accident; I swear it 
was. Oh, my God!” 

The whole atmosphere was suddenly charged with 
emotional excitement. “Sol” Daley turned triumphantly 
toward the Rector and even in that indistinct light saw 
that he was tense with horror. The realization that 
Leighton might have been—even probably was—Sommes’ 
slayer had been shocking, but the implied confession 
which had been wrung from the lips of the man himself 
affected him a hundredfold more strongly. He shud¬ 
dered. It was not because of the words, only. Leigh¬ 
ton’s tortured mind had spoken to his under the stress 
of the moment, and his strange faculty had responded 
to register the other’s sense of cringing fear; of terror- 
stricken guilt. The impression was confused but impel¬ 
ling. For once his inner eye had seen the mask stripped 
from the other man’s soul and he saw the bloodstain, as 
well as the stains of many evils, there. Small wonder is 
there that he shuddered, for it was as though he had 
been permitted to see through a glass, dimly to be sure, 
what God Himself would see when Leighton’s spirit 
should present itself for final judgment. 

The detective’s glance was obviously one of interroga- 



RAPIDS 


265 


tion. Dee Dee swallowed with difficulty and his knees 
felt nerveless. He felt that he was being called upon to 
pronounce judgment as the Almighty’s agent on earth 
and become the instrument of sending a fellow man to 
the gallows—or the chair. 

Yet, without conscious volition, he nodded, ever so 
slightly. 

“Thin it is true!” exclaimed Daley in a tone of terrible 
triumph. “Well, ’tis as I ixpected. I picked you as the 
murder-” 

“No! Heaven help me, I swear I didn’t—I swear 
it. We were struggling and the revolver went off acci¬ 
dentally. I only took it along in the hope of frighten¬ 
ing—Oh, my God!” 

Again Dee Dee grew rigid, and suddenly thrust out his 
hand and clutched the detective by the arm. 

At last he knew the whole, amazing truth—the men¬ 
tal picture was clear and sharp. 



CHAPTER VII 


THE WHIRLPOOL 

On that night of tragedy, Daniel Leighton had shot, 
not Sommes, but his one-time mistress, Loretta Lam- 
perth! They had all been speaking at cross purposes. 

“It’s true, I tell you,” continued the man, wildly. 
“She and I-” 

“ ‘She’ and you?” Daley caught and echoed the 
feminine pronoun, in surprise. “You don’t mane thot 
Miss Willoughby-?” 

“Anne? Of course not! What has she got to do with 
it?” Leighton was, for his part, far too excited and 
terrified to note the astonishment in the detective’s 
voice, or attach any special significance to it. He was 
bent only on trying to refute the charge of murder, which 
he thought had been brought against him, by a full con¬ 
fession of the lesser crime. In his excitement he slid 
down the tree a little and Deedon aroused himself with 
neck bristling again and his throat rumbling like a dis¬ 
tant volcano, until his master caught him by the collar 
and dragged him back off the rock, bidding him be quiet. 
The dog’s job was over and it had been well done. Dee 
Dee stroked his massive head to calm him and by way of 
earned reward. 

Seeing that he was safe from the animal’s jaws, Leigh¬ 
ton slipped down the tree, stood doubled over for a 
moment, rubbing his cramped and skinned legs and arms, 
266 


THE WHIRLPOOL 


267 


and then dropped—a pitiful, trembling, dishevelled object 
—on the rock, where he sat hunched up, wiping the 
sweat from his lips and forehead with a shaking hand 
which came away leaving his face streaked with black 
smutches. 

“Thin who-? What-?” demanded Daley. 

“I’ll tell you—just let me get—breath. Miss Lam- 

perth and I had been—friends-” 

“Miss-?” Dee Dee tightened his grip on the de¬ 

tective’s arm and said, “Hush, Dan. I understand, now 
—I guessed wrong at first. He’s telling the truth. Re¬ 
member the sling? He thinks-” 

“By the saints, is thot the truth? ’Twas her, not 
Sommes, thin. And he thinks she died and thot we— 
Well, I’ll be d-d!” 

Without heeding their sotto voce remarks Leighton 
was continuing, “A week or so ago I was fool enough to 
tell her that I intended—that I expected—hoped—to 
get married. She—she threatened that if I did she 

would go to—to the other girl-” 

“Call a spade a spade,” broke in Daley. “We know 
well enough whom you mean, Leighton.” 

“That she would tell Anne—Miss Willoughby, about 
—about our relations. I pleaded with her any number 
of times and then tried to—to buy her off, but she 

wouldn’t listen to me- Lord, what a fool a man is 

to let himself get entangled with a woman of that sort! 
She’d been bleeding me for months—a vampire! I 
simply didn’t dare to act until I had settled with her, 
somehow, although I had taken a chance and invited 
Miss Willoughby to come up here with her brother and 






268 


“DEE DEE ” 


join my sister and me for a week or more. Sommes’ 
murder gave me an added reason for pressing the invita¬ 
tion-” 

“Yis. Thot and your faked injury,” broke in Daley 
again, with biting sarcasm in his tone. 

Leighton flared up for a moment. “It wasn’t a fake 
—at least not altogether.” Then he buried his face in 
his hands anew and groaned under his breath. “That’s 
over, too. I wanted her so. Doctor Deane, I honestly 
loved her—I swear that I did. And I meant no harm 
to her, tonight, but when she refused me I lost my 
head completely. I didn’t expect—I really believed-” 

“Never mind what you really belaved,” Daley growled. 
“You’re most a week ahead of your story, and what I’m 
interested in is your explanation of how you come to 
shoot Loretta.” 

“Yes, I know. Where was I? Oh, yes. I felt that I 
wouldn’t dare to have Miss Willoughby here unless I 
could be sure that Loretta would keep her mouth shut. 
Something had happened that evening which made me 
determined to ask Miss Willoughby to marry me at the 
first possible opportunity-” 

“Git back on the track agin. We know all about 
thot—what Tom Willoughby told you raygardin’ your 
havin’ a rival, I mane.” 

“How in the devil-? Well, I don’t suppose it mat¬ 

ters, now. You seem to be damnably well acquainted 
with my private affairs, and-” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Daley said, suc¬ 
cinctly. “But git on, git on!” 






THE WHIRLPOOL 


269 


“All right. I had telephoned to Loretta that I must 
see her before I left, and I went to her apartment as 
quickly as I could get there, after returning from the 
Sommes’ residence and packing my grips.” 

“How? How did you go, I mean?” 

“A friend whom I happened to meet just outside my 
door took me in his car. Why?” 

“Niver mind. I was jest checkin’ up. Go on!” 

“I had made up my mind to offer her a thousand dol¬ 
lars to call it off and keep silent, but she wouldn’t listen 
to me—it was always ‘more, more’ with her. She finally 
named her price—five thousand dollars! That was way 
over my head and I told her so, but she said it was that 
or she’d see that I was dished. It led to a wild quarrel. 
She wanted to keep me there and I was bound to break 
away and catch the train—and to settle with her, some¬ 
how, first. I had a small automatic pistol with me and 
as a last resort—a bluff—I pulled it out and threatened 
her with it, in the hope of frightening her into accepting 
my proposition. Oh, I was off my nut and the very devil 
was in me—I’d been drinking pretty heavily. 

“But Loretta isn’t the kind one can frighten easily— 

d-n her! Or else she guessed that I was bluffing. She 

laughed at me. That drove me temporarily insane, I 
guess, for I swore that if she was set on wrecking my 
life I’d end it, myself, that very moment. I’m not sure 
but that I was crazy enough to have done it, too—I’d 
been up against it in a number of ways, and living in a 
sort of hell for weeks. Anyway I must have looked and 
acted wild enough so that she got frightened, screamed 



270 


“ DEE DEE ” 


and clutched my wrist. We struggled, but I couldn’t 
break away from her immediately—she was strong, with 
all the strength of an acrobatic dancer. 

“It was then—while we were fighting for the pistol 
—that it went off. I didn’t fire it, or even pull the trig¬ 
ger. I’m telling you the God’s truth. For an instant 
I didn’t think that anything had happened. Then she 
suddenly loosed her hold on my arm and staggered and 
fell. I saw that there was blood on her bare arm, but 
I thought that she had only fainted. The shock of it all 
sobered me up and also left me horribly frightened. I 
ran. But I didn’t kill her—it wasn’t murder. There was 
no reason why she should have died! Tell him that it’s 
the truth—that you believe me, Doctor Deane!” 

The speaker started up wildly and then collapsed. He 
fairly grovelled and Dee Dee and the detective experi¬ 
enced a feeling of almost contemptuous pity. Daniel 
Leighton certainly was not the stuff which murderers are 
made of. He was a weakling, craven-hearted, a fool, 
but not a villain. 

The Rector was on the point of speaking when Daley 
checked him with a whispered, “Wait a jiffy!” Address¬ 
ing Leighton, he demanded sharply, “Yis, and what hap¬ 
pened thin?” 

“I got out of the apartment house as quickly as I 
could—I thought that I had not been seen, and I had 
just sense enough left to take the pistol and my bags. 
Then I ran, blindly, down the street until I found a 
taxicab at the corner of-” 

“I know the rist.” 

In another aside to the Rector Daley said, “I’d not 



THE WHIRLPOOL 


271 


considered the fact thot the Lamperth woman’s apart¬ 
ment was located in the same giniral vicinity wid the 
Sommes’ risidence, havin’ no special rayson to connect 
it wid Leighton’s behavior thot night, but ’tis a fact. 
It all seems to fit together like the letters in a crossword 
puzzle. Looks like he’d got an iron-clad alibi as far as 
the ither thing is concerned. There’s no question but 
thot he’s been handin’ us the straight goods is there, 
Doc?” 

“Not the least. He has been much too frightened to 
lie. But for a moment, just at the start, I made a hor¬ 
rible mistake and am afraid that I misled you. I got a 
flash of what was in his mind and jumped to a wrong 
conclusion, thereby failing you in the first serious test. 
I’m sorry, Dan.” 

“Why for should you be? Sure anny wan would have 
done the same, for if iver a man looked and acted guilty 
’twas he—as he was, indade. Doesn’t the Bible say 
somewhere, ‘Thus conscience doth make cowards of us 
all?’ Well, there you are,” said Daley, magnanimously, 
and added, “Besides, you got the right signal only a 
moment later, ’twould seem, and he would have had to 
come t’rough wid the truth sooner or later, annyhow. 
Only look where it laves us, will you! Howiver, let’s be 
gittin’ rid of him before discussin’ thot.” 

Turning back to Leighton, he thundered, “Git up, 
you poor, weak-kneed, crawlin’ imitation of a man, you! 
I’m done wid you, you poor piece of cheese. And Loretta 
Lamperth is no more dead than you are—and a good bit 
more alive, from the neck up.” 

“She’s not—not dead?” 


272 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Divil a bit. Ain’t I tellin’ you? Can’t you under¬ 
stand plain English?” 

“Oh, thank God! Thank God!” Leighton almost 
sobbed the words. 

“Thank Him as much as you like, but maybe you’ll 
be changin’ your chune whin you learn the rist of it.” 

“I don’t care what it is. You can’t arrest me now, for 

- Look here, what did you lie to me for? You said 

that you had a warrant for my arrest as a murderer. It 
was a lie. You made me tell—false pretenses-” 

“Hould your whist! ’Tis well for you thot you did de¬ 
cide to tell and thot I belaved you, for it proved thot you 
couldn’t have been committin’ the ither murder at the 
same time. And there was a warrant out agin you— 
you was suspicted of havin’ shot your partner, Sommes, 
wid plinty of cause, too, so lay off talkin’ about it. All 
I want from you is silence—and dommed little o’ thot. 
Now thin, ’tis little sinse you’ve got, but I guess it’s 
enough to show you thot you’d be about as welcome as a 
skunk at a lawn party, as the sayin’ goes, back where 
Miss Willoughby has gone. Annywhere ilse is the best 
place for you until she and the ithers have time to clear 
out of thot shack of yours. They’ll not be wantin’ to 
see your pretty face agin, after tonight; unless maybe 
brother Tom would like to take a punch at it—for which 
I wouldn’t blame him. So the best thing you can do is 
make a detour in goin’ home, and I’d suggist thot it be 
by the way of Niagara Falls. 

“And thot ain’t all. ’Tis little use I have for the loikes 
of you, but I’ll give you wan ither piece of good advice, 
free gratis for nothing, not thot I give a hoot whether 



THE WHIRLPOOL 


273 


you take it or lave it. If I was in your shoes I’d have 
an immediate, pressin’ engagement in Europe, Asia or the 
South Sea Islands. For why? Because Loretta Lam- 
perth is up to the inn at Silver Lake this minute, and it’s 
a safe bet thot she ain’t there primarily for her health 
—or yours.” 

They both saw Leighton start at this disclosure, and 
Daley grinned wickedly, as he went on, “Like enough the 
good Doctor, here, bein’ a minister, would be after 
beggin’ you to do the honorable thing by the gurrl and 
marry her—which would probably serve the both of you 
right! But I’m soft-hearted. I don’t favor cruel and 
unusual punishments, so I advise you to bate it, while 
the goin’s good, for I know somethin’ about thot type of 
female—from observation. The police ain’t interested in 
your little shootin’ match, since she ain’t made anny 
charge aginst you, doubtless preferrin’ to take the law 
into her own lily-white hands. And remimber, ‘Hell 
hath no fury like a woman scorned,” he added, senten- 
tiously, with a grinning glance at the Rector. 

“I’ll be aisy on you to the ixtint of givin’ you twilve 
hours’ start, but come tomorrow mornin’ and you not 
gone away from here, and I’ll sick Loretta on your trail, 
as sure as my name’s Dan Daley. I owe you wan on my 
own account for ladin’ me on this wild-goose chase, 
indin’ in a mile sprint. Now, begone—and bad luck 
to ye!” 

Leighton’s mood had changed to one of bravado and 
argument but the officer wouldn’t listen to a word from 
him. He might have been back “on the beat” the way 
he cut the other short by gripping his shoulder, spinning 


274 


“DEE DEE ” 


him around and starting him toward the path with a 
healthy shove, crying, “Bate it, you!” 

So—muttering threats and profanity under his breath 
until he was out of reach, and then shouting them back 
—Leighton passed into the darkness of night and out of 
the picture; a most unpleasant figure when stripped of 
the social veneer. Moreover, he obviously found Daley’s 
advice good, after consideration, for he apparently left 
Silver Lake with great secrecy, the next morning, and his 
intimates received vague reports that he was in some 
rest cure establishment or other for many weeks there¬ 
after, suffering from a nervous breakdown caused by over¬ 
work. 

“So thot’s thot,” said the detective, in disgust. “Anither 
perfectly good solution of the mystery busted—gone 
flooey. And now the Lord only knows where we’re at. 
But let’s forgit it for the time bein’, and git started on 
our two mile tramp back to the hotel. Two, did I say? 
It seems like tin, in prospect, and I’d rather take a batin’ 
than walk through thim black woods in the darrk. The 
city lights and a harrd pavemint, for mine.” 

“Oh, David!” 

The call came from the lake in a clear, sweet voice, 
with a suggestion of hesitation in it. Now Anne appeared 
to them, paddling the canoe shoreward, in the full moon¬ 
light. 

The Rector was startled, but distress over her obvious 
disobedience of his command and fear that a cold would 
result had to yield to a stronger emotion—joy, upon see¬ 
ing her returning for him. 

For just an instant she filled his mind to the exclu- 


THE WHIRLPOOL 


275 


sion of all else. God had been very good to him that 
night. Whatever may have been Anne’s feelings towards 
Leighton, previously, she had not only refused his pro¬ 
posal but seen him for what he was. She had called the 
man a beast. And she had waited for him with the 
canoe. The first half of his most impelling purpose 
in coming to Silver Lake, which in imagination had 
towered like a mountain presenting innumerable diffi¬ 
culties if it were not, indeed, insurmountable, had been 
accomplished with extreme ease—almost without an 
effort on his part. Now the girl was returning to get 
him. They would—in a few moments—be together on 
the placid bosom of the lake, under the starlit heavens 
and a June moon. Surely now was the psychological 
moment- 

Like a douche of cold water came other thoughts which 
quenched the kindling fires of imagination. He would 
be a cad to tell Anne of his love immediately on top of 
the bitter experience which she had just gone through. 
No honorable man would seek to take advantage of her 
shaken emotions and her probable gratitude. Unfair, 
unfair! If she should yield it would, more likely than 
not, be because she had been caught on the rebound when 
she was spent and momentarily weak. It would not be 
love y love such as he felt and which alone would satisfy 
him. What reason was there for him to dream that she 
cared for him at all, other than as a trusted friend and 
advisor? None. The contrary was far more probable. 
Twice, now, in the course of one short week, men for 
whom she had felt the deepest affection had abused her 
trust and made her despise them. Would it not be 



276 


“DEE DEE ” 


natural for her to feel that none of that sex could be 
trusted; for her heart to say, with the hasty Psalmist, 
“All men are liars.” No, if he were ever to win her it 
would have to be after many days, when the memory of 
these present disappointments and tragic happenings had 
grown dim and time had been afforded him to prove his 
own worth by patient service, loving watchfulness. 

Then there was another, and more material obstacle, 
in the way of an immediate avowal, which he could not 
overlook for more than an instant—and all these thoughts 
had been fleeting, of momentary duration. 

He was not even to be alone with Anne. Daley, of 
course, would be with them. At the reappearance of the 
canoe the detective’s countenance—so doleful a second 
before—had become wreathed in smiles. Dee Dee ex¬ 
perienced a passing impulse to ask him to vamoose, even 
though it would mean his trudging the whole distance to 
the inn, all alone, but the next instant he was bitterly 
ashamed of the thought, brief as it had been. He knew 
that if Daley even so much as guessed what was in his 
mind he would depart in haste with the smile still 
gallantly on his lips, but that must not be allowed to 
happen. 

And, after all, his being in their company would be 
an advantage and serve a two-fold purpose. It would 
help to keep Anne from breaking down—a thing which 
would, he knew, try his resolution perhaps beyond en¬ 
durance—and there would be no place for embarrass¬ 
ment where he was present and talking. In the case of 
the detective the second was the invariable corollary of 
the first. He could be relied upon alike to make conver- 


THE WHIRLPOOL 


277 


sation and to explain his presence and what had occurred 
in a manner which would turn the story of the near¬ 
tragedy into something laughable. His words might not 
always be funny but he was himself amusing even when 
the most serious. 

Of course Anne would sooner or later have to know 
why he was there, and learn that her former lover had 
been seriously suspected of having killed her guardian. 
The statement that he was, in fact, innocent, would 
lessen the shock of the disclosure, and now the after¬ 
knowledge of this awful suspicion would not be likely 
to affect her greatly because her eyes had recently been 
opened to the real nature of the man. 

By this time the canoe had grated lightly on the shore 
and the two men had moved down to meet it. 

“Anne! Why didn’t you-?” began the Rector in a 

voice which sounded extremely stern. 

There was now light enough so that he could see the 
tears, born of utter weariness and overwrought nerves, 
that sprang to her eyes, and he mentally anathematized 
himself for a brute. 

“Oh, please don’t scold,” she broke in. “I suppose 
that I have been a bad girl, but something just made me 
stay there, out of sight. I didn’t even peek until I heard 
Dan—Mr. Leighton shouting back at you when he left. 
And I couldn’t—I just couldn’t run away and let you 
walk the whole distance back through the woods in the 
dark. I didn’t know that there was some one else with 

-Oh, be careful, Deedon!” The warning words were 

spoken to the dog that had almost upset the canoe by 
leaping on the frail gunwale in an endeavor to reach and 
kiss her. 




278 


“DEE DEE ” 


It was Daley who answered with a hearty expression 
of their appreciation, and although she recognized him 
the instant he spoke, and her face gave evidence of the 
fact that her heart had grown suddenly heavy, she 
greeted him pleasantly. His unexpected appearance 
startled her, but so many queer events had occurred that 
evening that she would not have been greatly amazed if 
a lion had stalked out of the shadowy woods. Certainly 
one would not have frightened her more, for to her the 
detective personified trouble. Had not Inspector Morrissy 
said that they might want her again? Nevertheless, she 
succeeded in choking back the question which sprang to 
her lips, and after a moment her mind grew a little 
easier, gaining courage from the thought that now David 
was with her and the realization of the fact that he was 
apparently on the most cordial terms with this terrify¬ 
ing representative of the law. The explanation of his 
presence would also be forthcoming in due time, she felt 
—and in truth the happenings of the week past had left 
her somewhat of a fatalist. 

Because of his own disturbed thoughts, the realiza¬ 
tion that Daley’s presence might fill the girl with new 
anxiety did not immediately strike Dee Dee, and he 
wanted to get them all embarked before commenting on 
the odd situation. She must be taken home as soon as 
possible. Accordingly he took charge of arrangements, 
assigned the detective to the bow of the canoe, saw that 
Anne and the dog were safely ensconced reclining amid¬ 
ships, while he knelt in the stern to do the paddling. 
Thus heavily laden the edge of the frail craft came within 
a few inches of the water, but the lake was as calm as 


THE WHIRLPOOL 


279 


the proverbial mill pond and so long as everyone remained 
physically quiet there was no danger of capsizing. 

Daley even kept his tongue quiet—being unused to 
this form of locomotion and rather uneasy—while Dee 
Dee carefully maneuvered them out of the cove to a 
place where the rising moon laid a silver pathway for 
them through the waters. By that time, however, the 
girl’s anxiety and natural curiosity, combined, conquered 
her fear and she hesitatingly asked why Mr. Daley was 
there, and what had happened to Leighton. 

The Rector was on the point of answering, but while 
he still considered how he should begin, the loquacious 
Irishman got under way and told the story so pictur¬ 
esquely but withal with such consideration of the girl’s 
feelings in mentioning the more unsavory details, that 
the other found no reason for interrupting him but only 
a great relief that he was himself being saved the neces¬ 
sity of making the explanation. Daley, for his part, 
seemed actually to enjoy it and regarded the matter as 
a good deal of a joke—even though the joke was on him. 

Anne listened to him in silence, except for one protest¬ 
ing exclamation when he started to tell how suspicion 
had fixed itself on Leighton, and when he had about con¬ 
cluded, she said, “Yes, I see it all, now. Yet it doesn’t 
really explain the coincidence that you, Doctor Deane, 
and Deedon should have arrived where you did at just 
that particular moment. It sounds like a storybook, and 
I am inclined to agree with Hamlet, that there are more 
things in heaven and earth than ordinary philosophy can 
explain.” 

“Just what my mother said, yesterday morning,” re- 


280 


“DEE DEE ” 


marked Dee Dee, and when he had retold the story of 
Deedon’s outrageously strange behavior the girl threw 
her arms about the dog’s neck and hugged him hard. 

“Still,” she went on, “in spite of all the things you have 
told me, Mr. Daley, I couldn’t have believed him guilty 
of—of that ” 

“Well, I ain’t so sure,” the detective responded, argu¬ 
mentatively. “He’s a bad egg, in my opinion—after 
what’s happened tonight you’d ought to realize thot he 
ain’t no angel. Of course I didn’t like tellin’ you about 
—well, about him and-” 

“I know—but I knew it already,” answered the girl in 
a low voice. 

“You did , thin? How the-?” 

Dee Dee stopped paddling to listen, and for a moment 
the only sound was the faint rippling of the water as the 
canoe cut through it, the drip, drip of tiny globules from 
the wet blade, and the distant hoot of the sardonic owl. 

“Yes. She—Miss Lamperth is the name, isn’t it?— 
wrote to me. The letter was forwarded from home and 
I received it only this afternoon. She told me—every¬ 
thing. That is really why I stole away tonight—I 
wanted to be alone and think. I did not know that Mr. 

Leighton was planning to—to propose to me- Well, 

perhaps that isn’t completely true. But we have been 
very good friends for a number of years and it was hard 
to believe that he wasn’t what I had thought him. My 
first idea was to tell Tom and then leave the camp 
instantly, but I didn’t want to do him an injustice, even 
in my thoughts. I had about decided that I would show 
him the letter, man-fashion, and give him a chance to 





THE WHIRLPOOL 


281 


defend himself, if it weren’t true, when he suddenly 
appeared and—you know what happened. It was all so 
sudden, so unexpected, that I was rather frightened and 
angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. But now—well, 
I’m really sorry for him. He wasn’t himself, you see. 
Oh, please let’s not talk about it any more.” 

“We won’t,” said Dee Dee, in soothing tones, for he 
had caught the note of threatened hysteria in her voice. 
“It’s ended, too—and the sooner it is forgotten, the 
better.” 

“Sure the both of youse is right,” Daley agreed 
heartily. “At least as far as thot guy Leighton is con¬ 
cerned. But where does it lave me, in my hunt for the 
wan who murdered Mr. Sommes, I’m askin’ you? Wan 
after anither my best suspects prove thimsilves innocent, 
lavin’ me where? Nowhere, save sittin’ in a tipsy canoe 
—and wid nothin’ to stand on but wather. If no wan 
of the household, nor yit Leighton, done it, who the 
divil did?” 

“I had forgotten that horror, for a moment,” said Anne. 
“Yet Uncle Sewell’s murderer must be found, somehow. 
You won’t stop trying to find him, will you, Mr. Daley?” 

“Dade and I’ll not—though now I haven’t an idea 
where to look. Like enough ’twas as the Doctor said 
—some wan thot we niver heard of, thot had a grudge 
aginst him maybe for doin’ him dirt in a stock transac¬ 
tion, and who managed to git in the house, the Lord 
only knows how. Well, annyway, it’s up to me to be 
hittin’ the trail back home tomorrow, and start castin’ 
around for fresh clues—which will of nicissity be pretty 
stale wans, now.” 


282 


“DEE DEE” 


“We do seem to be stumped, Dan. But I have a queer 
feeling—perhaps a presentiment—that the mystery is 
going to be solved and before a great while. However, 
we are not going to talk of that, either. Don’t you 
think that it would be wise, Anne, to leave the camp 
immediately, and return with us to the inn? There are 
plenty of rooms and I think that you would be comfort¬ 
able for a night or two.” 

“I do, indeed. Oh, how glad I am that you are here 
to take care of us, David!” answered the tired girl with 
a sigh of relief which was akin to a sob. 


CHAPTER VIII 


FROM THE DEPTHS 

“The damnable cad! I’m going out and find him, and 
when I do I’ll make pulp of his handsome face.” 

Thus Tom Willoughby, with his first coherent words 
after hearing the story of what had taken place at the 
cove, fulfilled the detective’s prophecy. For a moment 
he actually raved and it was all that Dee Dee could do 
to calm him down enough to think rationally, but even¬ 
tually he came to a realization that the chapter was closed 
and then his hot anger against Leighton changed to dis¬ 
gust with himself. “What a senseless ass I was,” he said. 
“Leighton’s been a sort of tin god on wheels to me 
for several years and I’ve been rooting for him to win 
Anne’s heart and hand. Good Lord, I ought to be put 
back into short pants and then spanked.” 

Yet despite his sincere self-abasement, which the Rec¬ 
tor made no effort to check, believing that it would be 
beneficial to his soul, Tom that night demonstrated the 
best that was in him—a new manhood. It was he, rather 
than Dee Dee, who really took charge of the situation 
and the latter was glad to step aside in his favor. It was 
he who, with commendable moderation under the circum¬ 
stances, broke the news of their impending immediate 
departure from the camp to the distracted Mrs. Moore; 
it was he who attended to the packing up of their effects, 
for Anne’s self-control gave way, temporarily, when she 
283 


284 


“DEE DEE ” 


found herself in Newey’s comforting arms; it was he 
who high-handedly commandeered Leighton’s motor 
launch to carry them all to the little village and coolly 
informed the cook’s husband and general factotum of 
the camp that its owner would find it tied to the public 
landing there, if he should ever want it again. 

Within half an hour after Tom had seized control of 
the reins they were ready to set forth. The young man 
went in and got his sister, leading her to the boat where 
Dee Dee and Daley were waiting, with his arm affec¬ 
tionately about her waist. Miss Newell followed close 
behind and the Rector suffered a pang of pity which 
included both women when he saw on their faces the 
marks of recent tears. Anne had in truth been dealt 
heavy blows by the hand of fate in quick succession, and 
it was obvious that each one had fallen with equal weight 
on the pain-filled heart of her childhood’s nurse. She 
appeared so broken, so suddenly aged by suffering, that 
the- man was positively shocked, although he knew of 
her chronic illness. 

Seeing him standing a little apart from Daley, by the 
bow of the launch, Miss Newell went directly to him and 
grasped his hand with both of hers, while the tears ran 
slowly down her sunken cheeks. For a moment she 
could not speak, and he gently patted her shoulder. 
Finally she attempted to thank him for protecting her 
“baby” and he answered, quickly: 

“But I did nothing at all. If there was any hero in 
that unhappy affair it was Deedon.” 

“I know. But he would not have been there, if you 
had not,” she reminded him. 


FROM THE DEPTHS 


285 


“That’s true—and of course I had to come, having 
learned the truth about Leighton.” 

“Why do you say that you had to, Doctor Deane? 
Few mere friends would have put themselves out to the 
extent that you have done, in a case like this.” 

He hesitated for just a moment. Then he replied in a 
low, firm voice, “I hope that I would have come in any 
case, but I am sure that I did come because I love her, 
Miss Newell.” 

A really beautiful smile illuminated her faded face 
at this unequivocal announcement. “I half suspected 
it, Doctor, and knowing that it is true makes me very 
happy. Please tell her so, soon. I’m positive that she 
thinks a great deal of you, and believe that she will 
quickly come to love you. Anne has been a girl suffi¬ 
cient unto herself, but what has happened this last week 
has left her badly shaken and she needs a strong, a good 
man, to lean on while she is readjusting herself to—to 
everything. The child has meant everything in the world 
to me, for years—you can’t know how deeply I love her. 
Oh, I would die for her if it were necessary.” 

“So would I, Miss Newell,” he answered, pressing her 
hand in sympathy as he drew her toward the waiting 
launch. 

The craft was light, long and narrow—a speed boat— 
and she tipped easily. At the instant when the Rector 
was in the act of assisting Miss Newell over the side 
Deedon made up his mind that it was high time that he, 
too, was on board. He sprang and landed heavily. The 
launch careened, the woman lost her balance and fell 
sharply forward. If Tom had not been right beside her 


286 


“DEE DEE ” 


she would have pitched headlong into the lake, but he 
had the presence of mind to fling out his arm and seize 
her dress, which checked her forward fall but brought 
her down on her knees, her breast striking against the 
low gunwale. With Tom’s assistance she got up and sank 
onto the seat, amid a chorus of startled exclamations, 
and the moonlight disclosed to Dee Dee the fact that her 
face was deathly white and drawn with pain. Moreover 
she kept her hand pressed hard over her heart. 

“Oh, Newey dear, what a terrible shame!” cried Anne, 
putting her arms about the older woman. “Is it your 
poor heart again?” 

The other smiled with an obvious effort, as she 
answered, “It’s nothing—just a little pain for a moment 
or two. I’ll be all right.” 

The unfortunate incident was passed off without 
further comment since she clearly did not want them to 
make a fuss over it, and in a short time the mild breeze 
created by the boat and the calm loveliness of the night 
and beauty of the moonlit waters laid quieting, invisible 
hands on all their keyed-up minds. The great healer, 
Nature, was at work. 

Nor did any further hitch occur when they reached 
their brief journey’s end. The innkeeper was naturally 
astonished, but he asked no questions and arranged for 
the new arrivals to have three rooms close to those occu¬ 
pied by Dee Dee and the detective. The two women 
went to theirs immediately. 

The three men sat on the porch for an hour longer, 
smoking and discussing the recent events in more detail 
—Dee Dee hoping against hope that Anne might perhaps 


FROM THE DEPTHS 


287 


come downstairs again after helping Miss Newell to 
bed, in loving part-payment for the countless times when 
the procedure had been reversed. Then the almost 
oppressive silence of the spot joined with their bodily 
fatigue to set them to yawning. Their pipes were allowed 
to go out and they unsteadily climbed the ill-lighted 
stairs to their chambers with every expectation of a 
night’s sound sleep. 

But the expectations of two of them, at least, were not 
to be realized. Daley slumbered peacefully until morn¬ 
ing, indeed, and Tom a little while, for, although he had 
been deeply stirred, a great weight had likewise been 
lifted from his mind and he fell asleep almost the 
moment that his curly head touched the pillow. Dee 
Dee was not to close his eyes that night, however. 
Weary though he was, as soon as he laid himself on the 
mattress—hard and lumpy as only the corn-husk-stuffed 
mattresses of a country inn can be—the crowding inci¬ 
dents of the past five days took possession of his mind 
and would not be coaxed or driven therefrom. With 
the memory of all that happened were mixed anxious 
anticipations of the morrow, for he had now suddenly 
determined to take Miss Newell’s advice and postpone 
the disclosure of his feeling towards Anne no longer, 
come what might of it. There were still certain barriers 
between them, but he would shut his eyes to them, now. 

He began to imagine a variety of ways in which he 
might approach the subject, and devise situations in the 
course of which he could ask her the all-important ques¬ 
tion, and for a time enjoyed the pleasure of pretending 
to himself that her answer would be the one he hoped 


288 


“DEE DEE ” 


/ 


for. Then the old misgivings returned to prey, like 
harpies, on his mind, and he again grew restless and un¬ 
certain as to the wisdom of making his avowal so soon. 
In a belated attempt to banish all such thoughts he 
finally set his brain to the task of repeating the Order of 
Service and Common Prayers—an expedient which had 
proved effective on other similar occasions. 

The silence was now complete; the night breezes blew 
in through the window, cool from the lake, fanning his 
face agreeably, and in time he began to experience the 
drowsy haze which is the prelude to slumber. 

Then he was abruptly wide-awake again and listening 
intently. Light, hasty feet were passing his door. There 
was the sound of soft rapping just across the hallway and 
then Anne’s voice, speaking low but with insistence, 
“Tom! Tom, wake up! I want you. Wake up, Tom!” 

The note of deep anxiety in her words brought him 
instantly out of bed, and—throwing a bath robe over his 
pajamas—he stepped into the passage. By the dim light 
which a bracket lamp above the staircase provided he saw 
that the girl was clad as he had seen her in his own home 
a few nights previous, a pale silken kimono over her 
nightdress, her hair in long braids, her feet bare. Even 
in that brief, startled moment, he was conscious of the 
thought, “How beautiful and shapely they are!” 

At the opening of his door she half turned towards 
him, but her distress overcame the possibility of her feel¬ 
ing any embarrassment, although she instinctively 
gathered the robe a little closer together over her breast. 

“What is the matter, Anne?” he asked quickly, step¬ 
ping to her side. 


FROM THE DEPTHS 


289 


“It’s Newey, David. You know that she’s had angina 
pectoris in a mild form for more than a year, but tonight 
she’s having a very bad attack—I suppose that it was 
brought on by excitement and her fall. I’m frightened. 
Tom must find the landlord and get a doctor, if there 
is one hereabouts.” 

“I’ll do it—but of course Tom must get up and stay 
with you,” he responded, seizing the door knob and rat¬ 
tling it violently. The door, being unlocked, swung open 
and he went in and awakened the heavily slumbering 
youth, who sprang from his bed as soon as he was made 
to understand the reason for his having been aroused. 
As he started to put his clothing on over his night wear he 
said, “No. I’ll get a doctor, if one can be dug up in these 
woods. There’s no reason why you should do it.” 

As soon as Tom had started on his errand, Dee Dee 
partially dressed himself, with all possible speed, and 
went to Miss Newell’s door, which stood slightly ajar. 
He rapped and when Anne appeared at the opening, 
said, “I’ll be glad to stay with her while you are getting 
some clothes on. It is growing very chilly and I’m afraid 
you’ll take cold.” 

She protested that she was all right, but he insisted 
and, with a low word of thanks, she went towards her 
own room to do as he had bidden her. He caught the 
faint perfume of her garments as she brushed by him and 
it, and the momentary pressure of her hand on his, rest¬ 
ing on the door knob, set his heart to throbbing madly. 

Then he stepped inside the room and, speaking softly, 
went to the sufferer, who was bolstered up in bed, and 
took her fevered hand. 


290 


“DEE DEE ” 


Miss Newell’s wan cheeks showed two fiery crimson 
spots, and she was drawing her every breath with painful 
difficulty, yet her eyes spoke her gratitude as he gave 
expression to his sympathy. After a moment of audible 
gasping she managed to speak, saying, “I’m glad— 
you’ve come—Doctor Deane. Please—close the door. 
Lock-Yes, please 1” 

She appeared so much in earnest that he wonderingly 
complied with the command. When he returned to the 
bedside she continued, with distressing pauses, “I don’t 
want Anne to—hear. There’s something—I must tell 
about—Mr. Sommes’—death.” 

The Rector uttered a startled exclamation. So Miss 
Newell held the key to the mystery! But what could 
she know about it? Although excitement had gripped his 
brain he felt in duty bound to calm her, if possible, and 
he said, soothingly, “I’m sure that you shouldn’t try to 
talk. It will be bad for you. That can wait.” 

“No, no!” she cried, struggling forward and pressing 
her hand over her heart again. “It can’t wait. I must 
tell —I must!” 

Then the mental veil was suddenly torn aside. He 
saw and stepped back a pace in horrified amazement. 
The thing was incredible yet the mental picture of her 
thoughts had been unmistakably clear. Agony, instead 
of dulling her brain, had made it dynamic and it had 
transmitted the message to his before her struggling 
tongue could utter it. 

The word which Sommes must have been trying to 
speak with his dying breath was neither “Anne” nor 
“Dan”—but the first syllable of her name—“Nancy.” 



FROM THE DEPTHS 


291 


Within arm’s length of him sat the one who had shot 
and killed the millionaire; his own housekeeper and his 
ward’s beloved nurse, “Newey.” 

Just how or why she had done so horrible a thing Dee 
Dee had yet to learn, yet his chief reaction after the 
first shock was that he must prevent her from saying any¬ 
thing more. A confession of the truth made to him 
under such circumstances would place him in an impos¬ 
sible position. He had promised repeatedly to use his 
utmost efforts to discover the murderer of Anne’s guard¬ 
ian and now if he should disclose the identity of the per¬ 
son who had slain him, her heart would be broken. Must 
he be instrumental in destroying the girl’s trust in every 
one whom she loved? 

Keeping his face motionless and his voice steady, as 
best he could, the Rector again begged the woman not 
to try to talk any more—at least not just then. But 
his appeal was made to deaf ears. Miss Newell indi¬ 
cated that the urge to tell her story was irresistible, and 
in fear lest he should try to leave the room she reached 
out and caught his hand in a grasp to which her excite¬ 
ment gave astonishing strength. 

“I must—I must speak,” she panted. “You don’t 
understand. Suppose I should die—without telling! I 
meant to keep it—to myself—carry the truth to the 
grave with me. But no, I can’t—I’m afraid. You must 
listen, Doctor Deane.” 

Then she paused, and when she resumed speaking her 
will momentarily became ascendant over the torturing 
pain and she went on clearly and rapidly. 

“It was I who killed Mr. Sommes—please don’t inter- 


292 


“DEE DEE ” 


rupt. Of course I know how terribly this must shock 

you, but- It wasn’t murder. I never meant to kill 

him, or even to shoot him, Doctor Deane. But now I 
want you to hear the whole story so that if the whole 
truth ever has to be told—and God grant that it will not 
—you will perhaps be able to justify me, for my little 
Anne’s sake. I don’t want her faith in her friends wholly 
destroyed, although I’m afraid- 

“It wasn’t murder; yet I would have been willing to 
die as a murderer if it had been necessary in order to 
save her, but when I found she was to be released—that 
she was no longer suspected—I thought that I would re¬ 
main silent, for her sake, more than my own, for I didn’t 

want her to learn—about—about- Oh, how can I 

tell even you?” 

“I wish that you wouldn’t. And—perhaps I can guess, 
Miss Newell,” the Rector interrupted, sympathetically. 

“Oh, if you could it would help. But I’m afraid not. 
If I tell you anything I must tell it all—and I’ve got to 
tell it. The pain in my heart isn’t as bad as that in my 
soul. Perhaps the law may never punish me, now, for I 
know that you’ll keep my secret if you can, but I’ve paid 
already and am still paying. My heart—it has been so 
very much worse since that awful night. The agony, 
when it comes like this, is hardly endurable, but it isn’t 
so bad as the torture of hideous thoughts.” 

“I think that I understand, Miss Newell, and if it will 
help you any to talk to me about it, go on—of course 
I will treat what you say as a confidence, that is, I shall 
unless it should sometime become necessary for me to 
speak to save some one else, who might be wrongly 




FROM THE DEPTHS 


293 


accused.” He made the decision without hesitation 
although he knew what it entailed for him in the future. 
“Only please try to be as quiet as you can and do not 
allow yourself to become over-excited, if you can help 
it. I think I can safely promise that Anne shall never 
know of this.” 

“God bless you, Doctor Deane. I know that I can 
trust her to you in all things. Yes, I’ll try to speak 
calmly but I must be quick. She will be coming back, 
I’m afraid. 

“I went away for a rest a little earlier than usual for 
my heart had been troubling me a good deal—in fact it 
was so bad that I had to give up the idea of attending 
Anne’s graduation, which made us both feel very badly. 
I was visiting relatives in Jersey when, a few days later, 
I received a letter from Mr. Sommes telling me that it 
would not be necessary for me to return to my position 
as housekeeper for him. Of course it came as a terrible 
shock to me in spite of the fact that he tried to let me 
down easy by stating that he was sending me a substan¬ 
tial check—as indeed he did—and was going to make me 
an allowance for life. But the real reason for his not 
wanting me to return was apparently contained in the 
statement that he expected to be married again. 

“I was on the point of writing to Anne to tell her about 
it, when I got a letter from her setting out what had 
occurred—you know what I mean. I could see how upset 
she was and although she wrote that she couldn’t think 
of marrying him she also asked me what she should do. 
This was before he proposed to her the second time and 
she definitely refused him, and—knowing what a master- 


294 


“DEE DEE ” 


ful man he could be and how used he was to getting his 
own way—I was horribly afraid on her account. 

“For, Doctor Deane, I knew Sewell Sommes as few 
knew him, God forgive me. To the world he appeared 
clean and upright, as men go, but he was bad—bad. 
When I was younger and not ill-looking, he—oh, I was 
as much to blame as he, I know, but I was weak and in 
his employ, you know. And I loved—I almost worshipped 
him for a time. Oh, he had a way with women! I even 
dreamed that he might marry me. Other wealthy men 
had married women in their employ, but he was not the 
kind even to think of such a thing. 

“But I saw, clearly enough, why he didn’t want me to 
return—why he had sent me the money. It wasn’t grati¬ 
tude on his part but a wordless attempt to keep me silent. 
My mind and soul revolted at the suggestion that he 
might marry my little girl. I felt that I must prevent 
even the possibility of such a thing, for I knew that he 
had been, and was, an incurable libertine. 

“I might have gone, or written, direct to Anne, but 
you can easily understand why I didn’t want to do that. 
I felt that there was only one thing to do, return and 
see Mr. Sommes immediately, but I merely meant to 
plead with him and perhaps, as a last result, threaten 
to tell—everything, to Anne, unless he would promise 
to leave her alone.” 

At this point a fit of panting overtook Miss Newell 
and she had to pause for more than a minute before she 
could continue. 


CHAPTER IX 


CLEARING 

“I returned to the city by the first train which I 
could get, ill as I was,” Miss Newell went on as soon as 
she could catch her breath, for she felt that she was talk¬ 
ing against time—Anne would be coming back any 
instant. 

“I didn’t get in until the middle of the evening but 
I took an electric car rather than a taxi for I have found 
that it jolts me less. That left me quite a walk and I had 
to go oh, so slowly, but I felt that there was no need of 
haste for Mr. Sommes rarely went to bed before one, 
or half-past one, o’clock. And besides, I wanted to get 
there after Anne and the others had gone to bed, for if 
one of them should see me it would have meant explana¬ 
tions and I wished only to see him , alone, and then creep 
away into some hole. The future was all barren and 
black, anyway, for, of course, after that I would never be 
able to return to the house, whatever happened. 

“It was after midnight when I finally got there but a 
light was still burning in Mr. Sommes’ upstairs study, 
just as I had expected. One was also on in the hall 
downstairs—Williams always left it going when his mas¬ 
ter was out late, having instructions not to wait up for 
him, and Mr. Sommes seldom remembered to turn it off. 

“Of course I had my own latchkey, and I let myself 
in with it, quietly. But just as I stepped inside the door 
295 


296 


“DEE DEE ” 


I received a fright which almost made my weak heart 
stop beating for good. It was Torn, who practically burst 
out of the study, calling something—I didn’t hear what 
—back at his guardian. His voice was thick with anger, 
however, and I knew that they must have been having one 
of their many quarrels and a particularly violent one. It 
frightened me, and I was more frightened when Tom 
started to run down the stairs directly towards me. I 
don’t know why he didn’t see me cowering in the vesti¬ 
bule, but he didn't, and I managed to slip into the coat 
closet and partially close the door, just in time. For a 
moment I was desperately afraid that he would come in 
there for a hat, but he rushed right out of the house, 
slamming the front door after him—I suppose that he 
must have had a cap in his car. 

“By this time my heart was paining so sharply that I 
had to sit there for some minutes in order to get my 
breath and let it quiet down. 

“It was while I was sitting there that I saw—the 
pistol. Was it God, or the Devil that made Tom leave 
it at just that spot where the light, shining in from the 
hall, through a narrow crack, would strike exactly upon 
it, Doctor Deane? I’ve always had a horror of guns. 
I had never fired one in my life; I had hated to see Anne 
playing with that one and made her promise me faithfully 
never to leave it, loaded, in her room. But just then it 
seemed to fascinate me, the way they say a snake does a 
bird. I couldn’t help reaching out my hand, little by 
little, and taking it up. I began to toy with it and sud¬ 
denly the idea sprang into my mind that it might be a 
good plan to take it with me when I went up to talk 


CLEARING 


297 


with Mr. Sommes—perhaps to frighten him with it, 
although I supposed that it was unloaded. 

“But I swear to you, Doctor Deane, that when I 
finally did start upstairs I wasn’t conscious of the fact 
that I still held it in my hand. I was thinking too intently 
of what I meant to say. The house was very still, then, 
and the grandfather’s clock in the hall sounded fright¬ 
fully loud when it chimed the quarter hour—it was 
always a little slow, by the way. My heart was beating 
so violently-” 

Miss Newell caught her breath with an audible gasp 
of pain as though in reliving the moment she was physi¬ 
cally experiencing all of its agonies, as was doubtless the 
case. Then she glanced apprehensively toward the closed 
door, and hurried on, speaking in jerky sentences. 

“I went upstairs slowly, softly, and pushed open the 
door to the study. Mr. Sommes was seated at his desk 
reading over some papers by the light of the desk lamp. 
That was the only light in the room and he didn’t see 
me until I closed the door, and spoke. 

“He started and asked me what in hell I was doing 
there. It isn’t necessary to tell you all that was said. 
I pleaded and threatened, but he wouldn’t listen. He 
was crazy for Anne—yes, actually out of his mind, I 
think. He sneered at me in that cold, hard way of his 
when I tried to appeal to his honor, and demanded what 
right 1 had to talk of honor. And at first he laughed 
when I swore that I meant to tell Anne everything. She 
wouldn’t believe me, he said. My little girl wouldn’t be¬ 
lieve me l 

“Of course I didn’t know about her second refusal of 



298 


“ DEE DEE” 


him, and he led me to think that there was no doubt but 
that she would marry him—it may have been because he 
was unwilling to let me know that she had rebuffed him 
—he was as proud as Lucifer—or because he still felt 
confident that he could beg or bully her into accepting 
him. But when he saw that a time had finally come 
when he couldn’t impose his will on me, that I was deadly 
in earnest, he drew out his check book. It was a weapon 
he had used successfully, as a last resort, all his life, and 
he seemed to take it for granted that I wouldn’t refuse 
to ‘get out and keep my mouth shut’ for the sum which 
he named—it would have kept me in comfort for the rest 
of my life. I did refuse it. 

“Then he told me to clear out of his house anyway, or 
he’d throw me out. ‘I won’t go until I have seen Anne 
and delivered my message,’ I said, and he started to push 
back his chair and get up. His face was frightful. I 
had never seen so awful a look on any human being and 
it terrified me. All this time I had kept my right hand, 
which was holding the revolver, hidden by my skirt, but 
now I pointed it at him and told him that if he tried to 
stop or touch me, I would shoot him dead! I meant it 
in the sense that I would have been willing to do it in 
order to save Anne, but I believed that it was only a 
threat for I thought that the pistol was empty. 

“Instead of frightening him, it made him crazy. He 
yelled out that he would kill me, instead, unless I left 
instantly, and that God Almighty couldn’t stop him from 
getting Anne, one way or another. Passion makes that 
kind of a man lower than the worst beast. 

“At the same instant he switched off the desk light 


CLEARING 


299 


and sprang up. I was frightened almost to death and a 
terrible agony stabbed through my heart. Then—the 
pistol went off! I hadn’t consciously pulled the trigger. 
I didn’t even realize that I was pointing it at him. It 
was all done involuntarily, in a red mist of pain. I heard 
him fall forward, across the desk-” 

Miss Newell stopped and her labored breathing 
sounded loudly through the little room. The story had 
gripped Dee Dee’s imagination powerfully. He had been 
able to put himself fully into her place and experience 
her emotions and now sympathy for her transcended 
horror at the event. It had been a judgment. Sommes 
had set his evil will against the will of God and brought 
about his own punishment. He had committed the mur¬ 
der, for murder was in his heart at the moment and his 
threat and violent action had caused the sudden heart 
attack which had resulted in the involuntary contrac¬ 
tion of Miss Newell’s finger on the trigger. 

The secret sins of the man whom Doctor Barrows had 
fulsomely called “an exemplary character” had found him 
out. 

With rasping gasps punctuating her words, Miss Newell 
went on again. 

“Then everything went black. I didn’t faint wholly 
away but I had to lean against the wall near the door 
and I suppose that I dropped the pistol there—I don’t 
remember anything more about it. There was a veil be¬ 
fore my eyes and a loud ringing in my ears. The pain 

here -” s he pressed her hand to her aching heart, 

“-was agonizing. And there was growing horror to 

cap it all. I must have stood there a minute or two be- 




300 


“ DEE DEE” 


fore my sight cleared a little and then I was able to see 
him, vaguely, lying across the desk in the moonlight. 
Yet it seemed unreal—like a horrid nightmare. Even 
his groans were like something heard in an awful dream 
—as though it were I who was uttering them, instead of 
him. I couldn’t move or think. 

“Then—I’m ashamed to tell this, although even now 
the memory of it makes me feel creepy, and I guess that 
you can imagine how utterly upset I was, how nearly 
gone my power to think or reason. I—I thought that I 
saw a ghost! It resembled Anne’s mother, as she had 
looked after she died years ago—white and beautiful. 
Now I know, of course, that it was Anne herself in her 
nightgown and light kimono, but the sight of her as she 
seemed to glide past me paralyzed what little brain I 
had left. 

“I can’t remember anything more, but I must have 
fled out of the room and down the stairs, though why 
she didn’t see or hear me I can’t understand. I always 
wear rubber heeled shoes and probably she was so intent 
on reaching Mr. Sommes that she was oblivious to every¬ 
thing else. 

“I did not come to even a partial realization of what 
was happening until a taxicab driver caught me by the 
arm for he had seen me stumbling along the sidewalk and 
guessed that I was ill, not drunk. I had gone nearly a 
mile from the house. Even then I couldn’t speak and he 
carried me to the nearest hospital. There they discovered 
that I was suffering with an acute attack of angina, put 
me to bed and gave me a hypodermic. 

“It was almost noon before I woke up, fully, and— 


CLEARING 


301 


strangely enough—I felt almost well. Then—recollec¬ 
tion came. I felt that I had to get up and flee, some¬ 
where; anywhere. I told them at the hospital that I had 
friends to whom I could go and they called a taxi for me. 
I had no definite plan but meant to return to Jersey and 
get my things. When I reached the station I saw a morn¬ 
ing newspaper. How I kept myself from fainting dead 
away when I read the headlines which told that Anne had 
been arrested, I don’t know, but I managed to get into 
another cab and told the driver to take me to police head¬ 
quarters. 

“Of course my one thought was to give myself up and 
make a full confession, but I finally decided that I would 
try to see Anne, first, and try to tell her the truth in such 
a way that it would not be quite so hard for her to bear. 
Then I learned that she was about to be released and I 
began to hope that after all both of us might be spared. 

And that hope has grown steadily, until tonight, when- 

Hark, she’s coming. Thank God I’ve been able to finish 
in time.” 

The exhausted woman sank back against the pillows, 
two of which had come from Anne’s bed, and closed her 
pain-filled eyes. For an instant Dee Dee thought that 
she was dying and he hastened to unlock and open the 
door. But when the girl, now fully dressed and with 
her glorious hair arranged in a loose but artistic mass 
on top of her head, entered the room, her old nurse 
opened her eyes again and smiled faintly. 

“I’ve been confessing my sins to Doctor Deane,” she 
said in a whisper, “and I feel better already, dear.” 

“As though you had any sins to confess, you angell” 


302 


“ DEE DEE” 


answered the girl, patting her cheek tenderly. And the 
woman’s smile became twisted as she turned her eyes 
towards the Rector. 

Tom brought a doctor-of-sorts toward morning and he 
treated the sufferer after a fashion, leaving her rather 
more comfortable and with the assurance that the attack 
would wear off and she be good for many a moon to 
come. In spite of this sharp paroxysm the disease, he 
said, had not yet become chronically acute and with 
care and quiet she might live for months or even years. 

On hearing this pronouncement Anne had breathed a 
heartfelt, “Thank God,” and Dee Dee had instinctively 
whispered, “Amen.” Yet as he uttered the word of 
hearty assent his conscience smote him, for in his heart 
of hearts he knew that it lacked sincerity. The thought 
which really sprang to his mind was rather, “How much 
better it would have been for all, herself included, if she 
might have died an hour ago!” 

If this had been a matter of romance, instead of stern 
reality, the unfortunate woman who was far more to be 
pitied than blamed, would have peacefully passed away 
after completing her confession. But, this being Life, 
she lived and might continue to live and suffer increasing 
agony for a long time to come. 

He felt that, so far as he was personally concerned, 
no sooner had one load been lifted from his mind than 
another was laid thereon. He had promised Miss Newell 
that he would keep her story a secret, except in a last 
extremity, and of course he might keep Inspector 
Morrissy ignorant of the fact that the mystery of 
Sommes’ death was no longer a mystery to him. But 


CLEARING 


303 


that would be playing unfairly. He could not permit 
the Department to remain wholly in the dark and con¬ 
tinue its fruitless labors on the case. 

The new situation demanded concentrated thought, 
and while Anne remained by the bedside of the now 
slumbering woman, holding her hand tenderly, Dee Dee 
slipped out into the night and paced up and down, up 
and down, before the inn, until the glowing stars had 
paled and vanished and the blue-black heavens changed 
first to gray and then to the pure, opalescent colors of a 
new dawn. Not until then did his own mental darkness 
fully yield to the light of a definite resolve. 

There was a weighty responsibility to be borne, and 
clearly he was called upon to shoulder it, alone. 

For Anne’s sake, as well as that of Miss Newell her¬ 
self, the woman must be sent away to some quiet, remote 
spot where she could remain safely hidden from search, 
should one ever be instituted for her, as unlikely as that 
might be. It was at least possible that the police might, 
by misadventure, stumble on some clue which would 
lead them to the truth, and if she were arrested and 
tried it would kill her. After hearing the story which 
he had just heard any jury would doubtless acquit her, 
but mercy would be unavailing. In her condition a trial 
would mean her death as certainly as though it ended 
in the electric chair. She must be saved from that, 
and Anne from the knowledge which would cause her 
further anguish. And Dee Dee must accomplish it, 
whatever the cost to himself. 

At the same time it was clearly his duty to inform 
Morrissy that he knew who had shot and killed the mil- 


304 


“DEE DEE ” 


lionaire and that he was bound in honor not to divulge 
his information or its source. At least he could assure 
him that it was not murder—that the man had been 
accidentally killed by a woman whom he had greatly 
wronged, but it must be done in confidence and so 
guardedly that the Inspector could not reasonably put 
two and two together and arrive at the right conclusion. 

But how would Morrissy take this disclosure, which 
would necessarily be so unsatisfactory from his stand¬ 
point? Would he feel that the Rector had broken faith 
with him—that he had actually double-crossed him? 
Would he charge him with having deliberately connived 
to defeat justice? 

The prospect was not pleasing, yet Dee Dee faced it 
with full determination, and he felt that he now knew 
the Inspector well enough to be sure that he would respect 
the confidence and his statement that he could tell him 
no more, absolving him from blame even though it meant 
that additional criticism would be heaped by Press and 
public upon his head. The Sommes’ case must forever 
remain a mystery in the annals of crime, and the Police 
Department would have to bear the onus of having 
miserably failed in its effort to discover the perpetrator 
of the “crime” and bring him or her to the bar of justice. 
That could not be helped, but Dee Dee made the mental 
pledge that at least he would try to make it up to the 
Inspector by faithful service in the future, if the chance 
should ever be given him; and, although he could not 
know it, in making this dedication of himself he was 
doing the very thing which Morrissy most desired, as he 
had 1 old Daley—a thing which was to mean more to the 


CLEARING 


305 


Department than the disclosure of the truth in that 
single case could possibly have meant. Indeed, the 
Inspector had achieved his larger purpose in setting Anne 
free, and the one which was uppermost in his mind. 
The mysterious “X” was now bound to his service. 

Dee Dee had also evolved a plan for Miss Newell’s 
future before he ended his deliberations. The chauffeur and 
maid whom he had once helped out of their great trouble, 
married and started on a new life in the far West, owed 
him a debt of gratitude which they often acknowledged 
in friendly letters. Now they could pay it. Their 
pleasant home would be an ideal harbor of refuge for 
the ailing woman—who was a gentlewoman at heart. 
Moreover, such an arrangement would serve a mutual 
advantage, for Miss Newell could afford to pay them 
reasonably for her keep, thanks to the check which 
Sommes had sent her and to which she certainly had 
every right. Dee Dee felt sure that they would gladly 
agree to take her, at his request, and that Miss Newell 
could be counted upon to see and agree to the wisdom 
of such an arrangement even though it would be very 
hard on her. She and Anne must be separated, and 
although the girl might wonder at the necessity and 
grieve for a time, a little pain at parting, now, would 
be far preferable to what might possibly occur, other¬ 
wise. God willing, he would in time have the privilege 
of compensating her for the loss of her old nurse and 
beloved companion. 

He felt that his plans left much to be desired, but 
things are never wholly perfect in this world. Even 
when we say that something has come out “right there 


306 


“DEE DEE ” 


are sure to be tag ends left somewhere, a little heart¬ 
ache underneath the moment’s joy. 

Dee Dee felt, however, that his decisions were the 
best possible under all the circumstances, and when he 
met his companions at the early breakfast table it was 
with a composure which gave no hint of what had been 
occurring during the night. Anne had dark circles under 
her lovely eyes, but she was happy in the knowledge that 
Miss Newell was resting much more comfortably; Tom 
was full of frank yawns, but the detective was as chipper 
as a sparrow and merry as the morning was fair. 

The fact that he was returning home empty-handed, 
his errand a failure from his standpoint, seemed to dis¬ 
turb him not at all, but the Rector suffered another con¬ 
science twinge at the thought that he might have given 
him the information which he was returning home to seek 
for—yet could not. Before he left to catch the morn¬ 
ing train, Ddey told Miss Willoughby all about his 
recent engagement to her maid, Nora, and grinningly 
received both her congratulations and promise to be 
present at the ceremony, and certain advice which she 
gave him as to the best way to manage his future bride. 

“Sure, I know,” he answered. “ ‘A woman, a dog and a 
walnut tree, the more you bate ’em the better they be.’ 
Still, I’m thot tinder-hearted—at least where Nora’s 
concerned—thot I’ve a hunch if anny trainin’s to be 
done after we’re married, I’ll be the trainee. I’m sorry 
I had to meet up wid you under jest thim circumstances, 
Miss, but ’twas a lucky day for Dan Daley, nivertheless. 
And maybe ’twill prove to have been the same for 
your swate silf, in the ind, who knows? Good comes 


CLEARING 


307 


out of evil sometimes, ’twould seem, and if Mr. Sommes 
hadn’t got killed whin he did, me and the Doc wouldn’t 
have been up to the cove, last night. 

“Well, good luck to the bunch of ye, and plaze give 
my kind remimbrances to Miss Newell—the poor thing.” 

With this parting message the detective waved an 
inclusive farewell and also passed out of the picture. 


CHAPTER X 


STILL WATERS 

Anne spent the greater part of the forenoon in her 
room, resting, and insisted on staying with Miss Newell 
during the afternoon. The Rector roamed restlessly 
about, after he had completed his second interview with 
the sick woman—an interview which went off even 
better than he had expected—taking a cat-nap under 
the trees now and then, talking with Tom and feeling 
decidedly listless and low-spirited. Physical weariness 
and spiritual reaction were both affecting him unpleas¬ 
antly. Moreover, he was still hopelessly uncertain in 
his mind regarding the wisdom of speaking to the girl 
immediately, or of postponing the subject indefinitely. 
Altogether the day dragged interminably for him. 

But when supper was over and the sky was again 
beginning to take on the richer tones of evening, Miss 
Newell insisted that Anne suspend her attendance and 
pointedly asked the Rector, who had dropped into the 
room to inquire how she was feeling, to take the girl 
away for awhile. “Why don’t you beg, borrow or steal 
a canoe and go out on the lake for an hour?” she asked, 
with a meaning in her words which was not lost on the 
man. “Tom will be willing to stay within call, I’m sure, 
although I’m also sure that I shan’t need any one or 
anything.” 

So the opportunity, at least, to which Dee Dee had 
308 


STILL WATERS 


309 


looked forward with mixed feelings of hope and dread, 
was made and a quarter of an hour later he found him¬ 
self slowly paddling across the gilded waters, with the 
girl whom he loved reclining at his feet and looking 
appealingly sweet, despite her slight pallor, and infinitely 
desirable. 

For some time both of them remained silent, for 
Anne appeared content merely to rest and enjoy the 
loveliness of the spot and hour, while the man was suf¬ 
fering the painful realization that none of the imagined 
speeches which he had framed the night before seemed 
adequate for the occasion. 

The silence was prolonged until it was becoming 
almost painful to the latter when his companion sud¬ 
denly broke it with the unexpected words, “Did you 
know that Miss Lamperth is staying at the inn, David?” 

“Yes. But how did you find it out? You don’t know 
her by sight, do you?” 

“I know her quite well, now.” 

“You dor 

“Yes. She must have spent half an hour in my room 
with me, this morning. And, oh, I’m so sorry for her!” 

“Tell me about it,” said the Rector. 

“It seems that she had the innkeeper’s son drive her 
in the flivver to the Leighton camp, right after break¬ 
fast, for of course she expected to find both Dan and 
me there. If she had, I suppose there would have been 
fireworks, but to her surprise she was told that he had 
left for good, an hour before, and that I was staying at 
the place from which she had just come. As soon as 
she got back she came straight to see me.” 


310 


“DEE DEE ” 


“Confound her nerve!” broke in Dee Dee, but Anne 
answered, “You don’t understand. I am awfully glad 
that she did. Of course it was unpleasant at the start, 
for she began by blaming me rather bitterly, but when 
she heard the whole story—well, I guess that we cried 
together, I out of sympathy for her.” 

The Rector said nothing, but he thought a good deal. 
Loretta Lamperth would have been the actress to the 
end and have made herself appear as the unfortunate 
victim of Leighton’s wiles—the woman who had loved 
“not wisely but too well.” Of course her play for Anne’s 
sympathy was obvious enough. 

“The poor girl never really had a chance,” continued 
Anne, earnestly. “She doesn’t know who her parents 
were, for she was left in an asylum when she was a 
baby-” 

Dee Dee scarcely listened to the conclusion of her 
sentence, which had to do with Loretta’s drab childhood 
in that institution, for a strange thought had burst upon 
his mind. The idea seemed incredibly far-fetched and 
imaginary, but he could not dispossess himself of it. 
The vague resemblance to some one whom he knew, or 
had known, which he had seen in the actress and upon 
which he had commented to Daley, had grown vivid, 
and he had placed that “some one.” Was it possible 
that Anne, too, had noted it and been conscious of the 
same impelling suspicion? For Loretta Lamperth was, 
in feature and expression, almost the exact feminine 
counterpart of the dead Sewell Sommes. If she had, 
indeed, been his daughter, how passing strange it was 
that her path should have crossed Anne’s in such 




STILL WATERS 


311 


a manner and at just that time, and with her—fortu¬ 
nately—in total ignorance of the truth, if truth it were! 
The fact could never be established, of course, but the 
Rector resolved himself to keep an eye on the girl, if 
possible, and at least help her to “go straight.” Nor 
was he the only one with that intention, it seemed, for 
Anne was continuing, “It touched my heart, David, and 
I promised to help her hereafter. Of course, I don’t 
mean to give her money—that is, not much; but surely 
there will be other things that I can do to keep her out 
of temptation. A friend means a lot, in cases of this 
kind, doesn’t it?” 

“It certainly does. You’re a brick, Anne.” 

“Nonsense. You’re the brick—as Tommy says. You 
know he told me, this morning, all about his mad esca¬ 
pade at college, and how you came to his rescue, too. I 
honestly believe that your friend, Mr. Daley, was right. 
Good does sometimes come out of evil, and things that 
have been in such a tangle are all beginning to straighten 
out—thanks to you, David.” 

“Not a bit of it—I mean that no thanks are due me,” 
said Dee Dee, hastily. 

“Indeed they are, but since I know that you don’t like 
to have me praise you to your face, I’ll only think it. 
You can’t stop me from doing that, you know, and I 
shall do it, all the rest of my life. But one result of all 
that you have done is that you’ve let yourself in for 
more trouble,” Anne added, speaking in a lighter vein 
for the moment. 

“I seem to have grown horribly dependent upon your 
judgment, during the last week, and I simply must talk 


312 


“DEE DEE ” 


with you about the plans for the future which I have 
tentatively thought out, for I want your advice about 
them. I wrote you that I should, you know.” 

“I remember. It pleased me at the time, and now I’m 
only too glad to give it—for what it is worth. And that 
will very likely be nothing.” 

“What a man!” she exclaimed with pretended exasper¬ 
ation. “You are either modest to a fault, or an awful 
humbug—and I don’t know which is the worse. But, 
seriously, David, I do depend on you. A week ago I 
felt that I was all-sufficient to meet whatever chanced—I 
suppose that the modern college girl graduate is generally 
like that. However, I have received some pretty heavy 
bumps and they have left me a little humbler and a 
little frightened, I’m afraid. Oh, how everything has 
changed in just a few days, hasn’t it?” 

“Indeed, yes,” he replied, feelingly. “And you are 
not the only one to feel that way. A lot of things have 
altered for me, too. Why, a short week ago I had not 
the faintest idea of making a change in my life, but 

now- Well, I don’t know. It depends—on—on a 

number of things. I love my work and the parish, but I 
have come to feel sadly out of harmony with Doctor 
Barrows, for one thing. I guess that you know the 
reason for that. He was so utterly wrong when he 
was talking to me in the study the other morning about 
—about ” 

“No,” the girl hastened to interrupt. “He was utterly 
right about that, David. Still, perhaps I can guess how 
you feel regarding it. I’m afraid that I don’t like him 


STILL WATERS 


313 


very well, myself, although it’s my heart, not my head, 
that is antagonistic.” 

“I can’t agree with you about that morning, but we 
won’t quarrel over it. It is another closed incident 
and perhaps it was ‘meant to be,’ as mother would say.” 

“It does almost seem so, doesn’t it? Times like these 
make one wonder. There are so many things which 
happen that we cannot understand. But there is one 
thing that I am sure of, David—and that is that I could 
never quarrel with you over any matter. You have 
shown me, more than ever, how sterling you are, in every 
way, and—well-” 

Dee Dee’s heart had begun to beat fast, but a sudden 
panic stopped him from speaking the words which were 
trembling upon his lips. Instead, he answered almost 
brusquely, “Nonsense.” 

Anne laughed, breaking the moment’s tension, which 
she may have sensed. “Oh, very well, have it your own 
way. You know I said that I would not quarrel with 
you. But, tell me, are you really thinking of making 
a change?” 

“Yes. At least, perhaps. It depends on—on cir¬ 
cumstances, a good deal. I don’t mean that I have 
any intention of giving up the ministry altogether. I’ve 
dedicated myself to that service, you know. But that 
dear old uncle of mine who is about through with this 
life has made a will—oh, what mother and I will receive 
will not be a great deal, but his generosity will make 
us reasonably independent. I sometimes think that I 
should like to leave the city and get a small parish, 
somewhere not too much out of the world, where I could 



314 


“DEE DEE ” 

do my parochial bit and at the same time have a chance 
to—to try my hand at writing. Perhaps I haven’t any 
real talent in that direction—almost every one thinks 
that he coyld write a book if he set himself to it, you 
know.” 

Anne clapped her hands softly, and answered, “Oh, 
I’m sure that you could. That would be wonderful! 
You’ll become a great author—why we’ve almost lived a 
story that you could write, haven’t we?” 

“It seems like it. And I appreciate your compliment 
in thinking that I could make it live on paper for others, 
although I’m afraid that I lack your faith in that respect. 
However, one never can tell till he tries, and—seriously 
speaking—a man can serve his God and his fellows with 
the pen as well as from the pulpit. Other ministers have 
done it, and—well, I think that I should like to try.” 

“Please do, David,” she said, eagerly. 

“Perhaps. I think that mother would like to move 
back to her girlhood home—her brother is going to 
leave the house to her. But—I’m not sure yet. There are 
other possible considerations. However, it was your plans, 
not mine, which we started to discuss, remember.” 

“Yes. Of course there are a good many ‘ifs and ands’ 
about mine, too. However, I feel a good deal as you 
do concerning the city. I just can’t bear the thought of 
returning to the old home and the old life—which doesn’t 
exist, any longer.” 

She paused and gave a little sigh, which was lost in the 
sighing of the light west wind that had risen as the sun 
went down and was now slightly ruffling the surface 
of the lake with wavelets which kissed the side of the 


STILL WATERS 


315 


canoe ever so gently. Overhead the heavens had flamed 
for a time but only the rich glow, orange, pink and 
gold with purpling bands, remained, and the shadows 
were once more creeping toward them from the forest- 
clad feet of the western hills. Dee Dee had stopped 
actual paddling some time since and only dipped the 
blade occasionally with an idle movement. Now he 
rested the paddle across his knees and leaned forward, 
intent on Anne’s words. 

“No, it’s all so altered that I never can go back there. 
There are too many memories, with the unhappy ones 
blotting out the other kind. Perhaps it is foolish of 
me, but I have grown to feel that there is more con¬ 
nected with Mr. Sommes’ death than appears on the 
surface—that there was something behind, and under¬ 
neath, it which was—ugly. I can’t explain what I mean, 
but I feel it, David. I’ve also come to believe that we 
will never know the explanation of how and why he 
was killed. And—I think that I’m rather glad, now.” 

He was startled, but refrained from comment lest she 
should pursue the same line of thought further and ask 
him some direct questions which he could not answer. 
Apparently her woman’s intuition had brought her very 
close to the truth which he prayed might be forever 
hidden from her. 

For a moment longer she, too, remained silent. Then 
she spoke of Miss Newell. 

“How I wish there was something I could do to help 
poor Newey!” she said. “Of course she shall have the 
best possible medical treatment and I hope that I can 
have her with me and make her as comfortable as pos- 


316 


“DEE DEE ” 


sible, after she comes back from the visit which she 
is going to make with friends in the West, soon.” 

Still Dee Dee did not dare to answer. He knew that 
Anne’s old nurse would never return from that visit, 
but he could not tell the girl so. And his heart was 
also full of sympathy for the suffering woman, recalling 
her words, “It will be bitterly hard for me, but I know 
that it is the only thing to do. At least I shall have 
my happy memories of Anne as an adorable baby, a 
child and a young woman. I wish that they might be 
complete; that I could add a memory of her as a wife 
and mother, but you will write me often, won’t you, 
Doctor Deane?” 

Anne continued. 

“Just now I feel utterly weary, for some reason. I 
hardly want to think, it seems to me, but I know that 
I have a spirit of restlessness deep inside that is going 
to drive me to do something, soon. I suppose that I 
might ‘complete my education,’ as they say, by travel¬ 
ing, since it looks as though I were going to have more 
money than I shall know what to do with. Oh, I wish 
it weren’t so, but the lawyers insist that it is.” 

“I don’t wonder at your feeling as you do, Anne,” said 
the Rector. “But the money is legally and properly 
yours and I suppose that you should accept it gratefully. 
You will be able to do a great deal of good with it, 
you know.” 

“That is just what I have been thinking and I mean 
to regard it as sort of a trust fund for charitable causes. 
That is why I shall need your advice so much. I’m 
terribly ignorant about such things, I’m afraid, and I 


STILL WATERS 


317 


would probably give a lot away foolishly. You will 
help me in handling it, won’t you, David?” 

“Of course. I shall be only too glad to do that.” 

“Thank you. But that solves only part of my prob¬ 
lem. Tom is going to work, which will be the best pos¬ 
sible thing for him, and I want to work, too. I have 

been hoping that I might help you—in the parish- 

But now—you’re going away-” 

Anne stopped and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. 

“Oh, please take me with you, David,” she cried, so 
unexpectedly and with such pleading in her voice that 
the Rector could hardly believe that he had heard aright. 

“Anne! You—you don’t really mean—that?” 

He dropped forward on one knee beside her reclining 
form and feverishly took her hands in his. In spite 
of his question, a great understanding and a great hap¬ 
piness had broken upon his mind like a dazzling light. 
The sixth sense had functioned once more, yet he 
scarcely dared to give credence to its evidence. 

“You don’t—you can’t care-” 

“Why can’t I? But—I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, 
David, what must you think of me?” 

“Think of you? My darling, if I only had the words 
to tell you and make you understand! Why, I’ve loved 

you, more and more, for years, but I thought- Tom 

told me that you—that he believed you and Leighton— 
And you told me, yourself, that you had said to Mr. 
Sommes that you loved—some one else.” 

“And so I did. Tom thinks and says many foolish 
things. Don’t you understand? Must a poor girl be 
forced into a brazen statement that it is you who has 



318 


“DEE DEE” 


been her Very ideal’—as Florence used to say in Booth 
Tarkington’s ‘Seventeen’?” 

Dee Dee almost shouted in his happiness and relief. 
“You bet she must! I’ve been trying, desperately, to 
propose to you and haven’t had the courage, there were 
so many things—the money, you know, and—everything. 

But now—if you really do love me- Will you marry 

me, Anne—dearest? Honestly?” 

“Honestly I will, David. It has been my one great 
dream and I didn’t think that it could come true.” 

“The same here. Oh, Anne1” 

He started to slide in beside her and the canoe 
careened madly. 

“David! Dear, please be careful or we’ll tip over,” 
she cried, laughing nevertheless. And he answered 
exultantly, “Who’s afraid? Both of us can swim, 
although that isn’t going to be necessary. Just the 
same I mean to take the chance for I’ve been waiting, 
waiting- Don’t you want me to ‘close ranks’?” 

Her answer was wholly satisfactory although not 
framed in words. 

Unguided, the canoe drifted slowly along under the 
gentle propulsion of the breeze until its bow grated on 
the sand of Anne’s cove. But even this ending of the 
outward journey passed unnoticed by the two passengers 
until they were nearly capsized by the weight of a 
heavy body, suddenly flung upon the gunwale, as Deedon 
leaped up to welcome his new mistress with a ringing 
bark which seemed to speak full understanding. 


The End 











NOV 6 1925 




















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































